Just Another Night at Freddy's: Night Seven: For the Fans
by DeltaV
Summary: A fan-built collection of one-shots set in the "Just Another Night at Freddy's" universe. Rules are posted in Chapter One, as well as an adventure by another animatronic band. Rated T for "words that make nuns gasp". Warnings placed before graphic content (if any). Bascially PG-13. Submit your own idea! Oh, and I don't own Five Nights at Freddy's. Don't sue me, Scott!
1. Just Another Day in Adventure Park by Me

_**Just Another Day at Adventure Park **_

_**An original one-shot by: DeltaV**_

_**Based on an idea by KamikazeRebel**_

Baron von Pizzä felt himself be jostled about inside the delivery truck that had arrived two days after Pizza Baron was shut down. He and the other members of the Pizza Baron Band, Maxwell and Drake, were strapped to dollies and wheeled into the back, all on standby. As a result, the three of them could see, hear, and feel motion, but couldn't react to it in any way. It was a bizarre experience, one they had to learn to get used to with their newly-found sentience. Foxy and the others had left that same night, although Nathan returned to ensure they were going to be taken care of. His friend Daphne oversaw operations at Adventure Park, their new home.

Adventure Park was rather new, as far as amusement parks went, only being about a decade old, and it was fairly popular with the surrounding cities, keeping it successful and capable of adding new attractions. The basic principle for the attraction that the Pizza Baron gang would be repurposed for what was a mixture of a world culture showcase and a time travel adventure, named "Globetrotter." In an incredibly convenient coincidence, there were openings for all members of the Band, and required very little changes on their part, just replacing their script.

Baron rattled again as the truck hit another bump, bouncing slightly on its loose suspension. The back of the truck was nearly pitch-black, and their night-vision (it had been unanimously decided among the robotics community that that particular function was necessary) did not function when in stand-by, but Baron could just barely make out the forms of Maxwell and Drake in the blackness.

_I wonder what this place will be like,_ Baron thought.

* * *

"Alright, back it on up," came the voice of one of the workers. A steady _beep, beep, beep _sounded as the truck reversed into its parking spot in front of the maintenance access for Adventure Park. It was basically a large warehouse that stored a whole manner of bits and bobs for when rides inevitably broke down, and also served as the central hub for any construction, due to its large parking lot and easy road access.

The back of the truck filled with sunlight as the cargo door slid upwards into its housing, and Baron was wheeled out and into the warehouse. Most of the animatronics for the "Globetrotter" ride were being stored here, their programs being created and loaded as needed. From the few that Baron could see, it was obvious there was a certain lack of quality. Proportions would be odd, faces lacking any real emotion, and were overall just… older and creepier. They were all animals, though, and dressed in various costumes representing different countries and time periods.

"These three are nice!" a worker said, commenting on how they looked almost brand new. "These are New Wave ones, right?"

One of the other workers from the truck, a woman, nodded, "Yep. From that Pizza Baron place that never got off the ground. Probably've only done a few shows."

_Sadly, that's true,_ Baron thought to himself.

"Whoa, these are the newest models!" the previous worker said as he examined Maxwell's inner workings. The woman from the truck shrugged.

"So?"

"_So_ that means these things have a basic A.I. built right in! They can talk to guests and such, and have an independent power supply mounted in their torsos. Let's turn this one on!" the worker began eagerly flipping switches inside Maxwell's skull. The woman stopped him.

"Not now, Chip! These guys have to get set up in the ride! Play with them later," she ordered. Chip sighed.

"Fine," he said, and closed Maxwell's access hatch. Baron watched as the three of them were wheeled through the parks' backstage. A rollercoaster thundered overhead, startling him.

_What was that thing?_ He wondered, the screams coming from it worrying him, _Drake must be feeling even worse than I. I hope we get to where we're going soon._

* * *

"Jeez, these things are heavy!" Chip complained, puffing as he wheeled Drake into his scene.

Much like in Pizza Baron, it featured a castle, of which Drake was the knight for. He was set up in a throne room where a king character would sit, had that animatronic been delivered. For now, he had the large space to himself.

Meanwhile, Maxwell had been set up on a sort of stage representing the United States. He wasn't alone, acting as one of several supporting characters for the Uncle Sam bald eagle in the center. The worker that had wheeled him in gently uncurled his fingers and grabbed his keytar.

"Don't need this thing anymore," he said, and walked out of Maxwell's line of sight with the instrument.

_Hey! That was mine!_ Maxwell thought. He waited for the worker to return. He did not. Inwardly, the wolf-dog robot frowned. _I guess I gotta look for it_.

In the middle of the ride's track sat Baron von Pizzä's display. He seemed to be the main character, being the closest to the display's edge, possibly due to the quality of his construction. He too was unable to keep his original instrument, but that didn't trouble him that much. What really did was the fact that they were separated. He had been unable to see where Maxwell and Drake were taken, and while he figured they weren't in any danger, it made him anxious just the same. Hopefully they could find out soon.

He was distracted from his thoughts by two passing workers, identified by their bright orange coveralls, who were both deep in conversation.

"They say the programming isn't finished yet. We're gonna be delayed at least a day or two," one said.

"Damn it! The owner isn't going to be happy," the other replied. The first worker shrugged.

"Not much Scott can do at this point. Other than wait," he said.

"I guess, but you'd think they'd-," the two passed out of the range of Baron's audio receptors.

_Programming? Hrmm. I wish Nathan were here to explain things,_ Baron thought, and waited.

* * *

Dalton sat in the waiting room of Adventure Park's offices, talking on a cellphone. Whatever the other person was saying seemed to annoy him, as he ran a hand through his dark blonde hair.

"Broski, the fans love your writing! Stop being a baby and hurry up and get that draft done," he listened to the other person's response.

"What the hell? You're writing a seventh book, and you didn't tell me? You're holding out on me, Broski," Dalton asked incredulously. "I thought you were whining about the sixth one still! Alright, give me the details. What's the plot of this one? …Yeah? …Ok, so? …Wait, _what_? Hold up, what about the original plan you told me, the, uh… making the uh, thee, uh… stupid english… guard the murderer? _Hell no I don't want you to write me into this stupid thing_! You won't capture my character and make me die, that's why." Dalton looked up as a door opened and the receptionist appeared, giving him a nod.

"Look, I gotta go. No, this is going on too long, I have stuff to do. Just… just write the damn thing, I don't care. _Bye._" Dalton hung up, giving the receptionist a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. My friend's a writer, and I help him out. Is something wrong?" he asked. The receptionist shook her head.

"No, no, it's just that Mr. Walker wants to interview you himself," the receptionist explained, and pushed the door open wider, "Follow me, please."

* * *

"So… You want a job, huh?" Mr. Walker asked, leaning over his desk and studying Dalton intensely. Dalton reeled back.

"Uh… yeah…" he said. Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes, and leaned back slowly.

"Says here you used to work at Freddy Fazbear's. For one night, before you quit. Why?"

"It, um, they, uh… It was just too creepy, with all the rumors and stuff, it was messing with my head," Dalton lied, adhering to the nondisclosure agreement he signed. He paled at the memory. Somehow, Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes even further, his wrinkled face scrunching up.

"I see…" he said. He stared at Dalton for a few seconds more before turning his chair around.

"Alright, you're hired. Shift goes from closing to five in the morning. Don't be late," he said. Dalton smiled in relief and went to pick up his uniform from the security office. He met his supervisor, Jeremy Fitzgerald. The middle-aged man was dressed in security officer attire already, carried a clipboard, and was still physically fit. He walked over, a limp evident in his step.

"You must be the new guy. I'm Jeremy," he said, offering a hand. Dalton took it, shaking.

"Dalton."

"I heard you worked at Freddy's," Jeremy said with a grin.

"Yeah," Dalton confirmed, "For a night." Jeremy nodded in what seemed like sympathy and led Dalton to his locker.

"I worked for them too. It's funny, it seems everyone that joins the Fazbear Family meets up with each other," Jeremy said, and opened a locker that lacked a nametag, "I guess it's because Freddy's has a reputation. Anyway, here's your uniform, belt, keys, torch, everything you need. We'll get a name on that door later. Let's see… what shift you working?"

Jeremy looked at the clipboard, and chuckled.

"How about that, you're on the graveyard with me. Probably intentional, getting the Fazbear guys together," Jeremy said.

"You work a shift? But you're the supervisor," Dalton pointed out. Jeremy shrugged.

"I'm a hands-on kind of guy," he said, "I can show you the ropes. We've got two other guys with us, all around the park, and a new ride under construction that management wants kept safe. We'll set up our patrols and the like when our shift starts." His radio crackled.

"_Jeremy?_" a voice on the other end asked.

"One second," he told Dalton, and lifted the radio to his mouth, "Go for Fitzgerald."

"_Hey Jeremy, we're getting people complaining about a guy who keeps taking pictures of other guests with a high-power camera near Kiddy Land. They're getting creeped out," _the radio said. Jeremy sighed, then pressed the transmit key.

"Alright, I'm on my way," he said, and turned back to Dalton. "Sorry, duty calls. I'll see you at the start of your shift." Jeremy walked determinedly away, limping on his left foot. Dalton watched him leave, rubbing the back of his head.

"What are the chances… another Freddy's guard," he said to himself, and checked his watch. Three hours until his shift started. Good thing he was in the middle of an amusement park.

* * *

**Three Hours Later**

"_Servus_, Mr. Fitzgerald," Dalton said, walking into the locker room. Jeremy was already present, changing the batteries on his radio. He looked up and smirked.

"Ser-vus? You're German?" Jeremy asked.

"No, I'm learning in college," Dalton replied.

"Ah, okay. And just call me Jeremy," he said, "We're not that formal here."

"Alrighty then," Dalton replied, and changed into his gray uniform, shoving the black ball cap on his head and pinning his badge to his chest. He chuckled, and looked at it.

"Heh. I are sheriff," he said to himself. Fully dressed, he stepped back and checked out his appearance. Jeremy had moved to wait by the door, leaning against the wall.

"Looking sharp," he commented, and waved Dalton over, "Alright, let's get going. Jennifer and Charlie are at the other side of the park. You're just tagging along with me tonight. We keep the lights on, so it's not so bad. Our job is basically to make sure no one stuck around after hours or broke in." The two both walked out into the park, Jeremy leading the way.

Adventure Park closed at 11:00 on weekdays, and the park itself was divided into different themed areas, much like Disneyland or similar venues. There was the Main Hub, simply referred to as "The Hub," which housed the business side, several restaurants, first aid services, the security headquarters, and other essentials. It wasn't themed, but the buildings were painted cheery colors.

On the Eastern side of the park sat Thrill Ville, which was dedicated to all things adrenaline pumping. Here was where you could find the fastest roller coaster, the tallest drop rides, and other stomach churning, heart-pounding attractions. It was styled much like the "hot rodding" culture, with a lot of diamond plating and flames.

To the North sat Futuristica, a sort of science-fiction area dealing with more of the simulator and interactive rides, all set with a idealistic vision of what the future might be like. Then to the West was the most popular "land": Kiddy Land. This is what Adventure Land had started out as, before growing out into the other themes to try and broaden their appeal. It was also where the new ride was being set up. It hosted a cast of animatronic animal characters, and had gentle rides that ranged from a train to junior roller coasters, as well as dark rides like "Globetrotter." It was also the biggest in terms of ride count, since it was older. This is where Jeremy and Dalton were headed.

Dalton checked his watch, reading a glowing green 11:52. He had been wandering around Kiddy Land by himself, pointing his flashlight around at the darkened scenery and rides. It was a little bit creepy, with all of the frozen animatronics staring out with unblinking eyes and almost sinister grins. It brought back memories of his single night at Freddy's.

* * *

Meanwhile, Sir Drake sat idle, mentally complaining about everything in front of him. He, above the other two, took the most pride in Pizza Baron. It was his kingdom, and as a knight he felt he had failed to protect it. And now he had been moved to this new place, under a new "king." Yes, Trout wound up being a very terrible person, but the kind of loyalty Drake had couldn't be transferred that easily. Unless they reprogrammed him, which was a possibility. But until that day came, all Drake had available was to sit in wait in this dingy castle, staring out at a concrete moat, until someone came by later to figure out what to do with-

_Click. Whirr…._

A series of clacks sounded, and Drake suddenly found he could move his body again. He tested out each motor, moving his limbs this way and that, to ensure nothing had been damaged from the ride and installation.

He reached some difficulty with his feet, however, finding metal clamps arching over them, anchoring him in place. He pulled against, and felt the bolts start to give slightly, having been a temporary solution to ensure Drake didn't fall over. The knight pulled harder, and with a _crack_ the wooden floor gave way and the anchor went flying, skittering into the dried up moat. Drake repeated this with his other foot, and then, his freedom of movement restored, began to search for the others.

"Sir Baron?" he called out, "Where doth thou be?" Drake's deep voice echoed through the half-built ride. A voice called back.

"Drake?" it was Maxwell, and from the sound of it, seemed to be coming down from an open doorway. It was a maintenance entrance, making it easier for workers to go from area to area without having to go through the entire route of the ride. This particular doorway lead to the ending, and Maxwell's stage.

"Squire Maxwell!" Drake said, "I hath never thought I'd say this, but it be good to see you." Maxwell smiled.

"Thanks, buddy! But I've got a problem," he explained, "Some guy took my keytar. You have to help me find it." Sir Drake imitated a sigh.

"Curse thine infernal instrument. Very well, which way did the rogue go?" Drake asked, crossing his arms. Maxwell pointed towards a doorway set behind the stage.

"Through there," Maxwell said, and moved to walk towards it, but found himself stopped by the same anchors Drake had faced. With two sharp tugs, Maxwell yanked them out of the floor. Drake started walking through the doorway.

"Follow me," he said, "I shall lead." The knight's stride became one of confidence, Maxwell keeping up and looking around curiously.

"Whoa," he said with fascination, "What exactly _is_ this place?" Drake shrugged.

"I do not know," he replied simply.

The two robots entered the incomplete ride's maintenance passages, instantly noticing the lack of happy coloring on the walls, floors, and ceiling. They soldiered on, and eventually found a closed door. Maxwell walked up to it.

"Do you think it's behind here?" he asked Drake.

"Methinks it be worth a try," Drake said, and Maxwell reached for the doorknob, giving it a twist and pulling the door open.

Inside were several props for the ride, mainly things like chalices, tools, and other things to serve as extra scenery, but no musical instruments.

"Guess we better check somewhere else," Maxwell said, and turned to leave. Drake was about to follow, but spied a familiar hilt poking out from a box. He darted over and grabbed it, pulling out his fake broadsword.

"By my troth, mine sword!" he cheered, and gave it a few swishes, making sure it wasn't damaged.

"Alright!" Maxwell said, "Maybe we can find my keytar next!" Drake nodded, and again led the way, sword held high.

The pair went door to door, but couldn't find a room that appeared to be for musical instruments, most of them being dedicated to tools, set pieces, and the like. So they kept walking, trying doors, and just exploring in general. Eventually, they reached the end of the corridor, and upon opening that door found themselves standing in front of a colorful backdrop.

The buildings were either part of the backdrop or a façade of which there was no interior. They had the appearance of an old Germanic themed wattle and daub town house, with a white painted front with wooden crisscrossing on top of it. The proportions had a cartoon-esque exaggeration, and used the method of forced perspective to appear taller than they actually were. The background was of a beautiful sunny day, no clouds, and blue skies. And directly in the center of it was Baron, who smiled upon seeing them.

"_Guten tag_ _mein_ friends!" he greeted, German accent still going strong, "I trust you are all vell?"

"Aye, we be fine," Drake replied.

"Not exactly, I still can't find my keytar!" Maxwell reminded. Baron's eyes widened.

"Vell, ve can't have that!" he said, and pulled against the foot anchors, tearing up their nails, "Let's see vhat ve can find."

Baron led on from there, head swiveling as he searched this way and that for Maxwell's cherished instrument. The journey carried them through the ride's entire layout, until eventually they arrived at the skeletal construction of the station, where riders boarded their vehicles.

"It doesn't seem to be anywhere," Maxwell said sadly. Baron put a hand on his shoulder. Meanwhile, Drake looked around, paying particular interest into what he could see through the gaps.

"What sort of land is this?" he asked, picking up a discarded hammer, "What do they be constructing?"

"Who knows?" Baron said, "But ve seemed to be involved. Come, Maxwell, I'm _sure_ your keytar is around her somevhere."

But Maxwell became equally curious as to the purpose of the structure. He stepped out of the moat, climbed into the queue line and turned back to the others.

"I think this leads somewhere. C'mon, let's go check it out!" Maxwell urged. Baron shook his head.

"I don't think so, Maxwell, ve have to stay vhere ve vere placed," Baron countered. Drake spoke up.

"Wouldn't getting the lay of this land be most beneficial?" he asked, "It shan't harm us." Baron hesitated as he considered the dragon's argument. He had a point, they had no idea where they were. Nathan hadn't explained much after having to deal with Foxy's rescue.

"Alright, I agree. Lead the way, Max," Baron said, and stepped up into the queue line, following as the wolf-dog strode curiously into the night.

* * *

Dalton and Jeremy had split up, going around the Kiddy Land area. Policy demanded searching the interior of the rides, which were only lit up by their emergency lights. He could still see, just not as well as he might have liked. The frozen animatronics in the rides were unnerving, and memories of his unsuccessful first night at Freddy's came fluttering back.

Suddenly, the sound of what sounded like people talking drifted across the night.

"Whoa, what do you think _that_ is?" came one voice, sounding younger and higher pitched.

"I don't know. Maybe ve could find someone to ask?" came a second, a German accent weighing down the words.

"Methinks not," came a second, which sounded like a deep-voiced Shakespeare, "There is quite obviously no one about."

From the topic of whatever conversation they seemed to be having, it was clear that they were not employees of the park. Dalton grabbed his radio from his belt and lifted it to his face.

"Hey Jeremy, I got some people over here," he reported.

"_Well, if they don't seem like they're going to stab you, just flash your badge and ask them to leave_," Jeremy radioed back, "_I'll start heading your way if you need some backup._"

"Copy that. I guess," Dalton replied, and headed for the source of the voices.

The sound led him to the new ride, which was currently surrounded by temporary fencing and the usual "Pardon Our Dust!" signs. There was a lot of construction equipment laying around, such as ladders, lumber, sheet metal, wiring, generators, portable floodlights for night shifts, hammers, drills, et cetera. But no sign of the source of the voices, which had gone quiet when he peered in.

Dalton clicked on his flashlight and ventured into the site, keeping a slow pace to avoid hurting himself. A distant creak could be heard behind him, and he snapped his flashlight beam to illuminate the source. Nothing.

"Hello?" he called out, "You're trespassing on private property!" There was no response.

Dalton stared nervously at the spot for a few more seconds, then continued deeper into the worksite, shining his flashlight left and right. Odd shadows were formed from the various machinery and scaffolding, and several times the guard jumped at what he thought was a silhouette of something, only to discover it belonged to a shovel and a crate or things of that sort. Then a voice sounded, close, from Dalton's left.

"Hey, who's that?" it was the youthful sounding voice.

"I think that man works here. _Hallo? Herr?_" the German voice called out. Dalton recognized the words. They were directed at him.

"Who's there?" Dalton asked, and approached the sound.

"At last, a servant of this odd kingdom," the "Medieval Times"-esque voice said with relief, "We have been having the greatest of difficulties finding where we are."

Dalton rounded a large piece of scaffolding, from which behind it seemed the voices originated from.

"I'm a guard, and I'm afraid y'all are gonna have to-," Dalton's sentence was cut off as his flashlight illuminated who had been speaking.

Standing in front of him, eyes glowing a shade of white around their pupils, were three animatronics. In the center stood what appeared to be a German shepherd, dressed in lederhosen and a Bavarian style hat. At the dog's left, and slightly in front, stood a green-scaled dragon sporting the chest piece and helmet of a knight, and carrying a sword in its right hand. On the shepherd's right, holding up a power drill, was another dog, although the breed wasn't immediately distinguishable. It had a grayish color, and wore a bandana around its neck. Three animatronics, acting just like the ones at Freddy's. Dalton dropped the flashlight.

"Nope," he said to himself, and immediately began running in the opposite direction, "Nope, nope, no, no, nope, _no!_"

"Wait!" cried the young-sounding voice, and a rapid set of heavy footsteps began to follow the panicked guard, "Where are you going?"

"Maxwell!" came the Germanic voice, and a new set of footsteps joined in.

"By my troth," the Ye Olden English voice muttered, and more footsteps sounded.

Dalton kept running through the near-pitch black construction site, obstacles in his path barely illuminated. He finally found the exit, catching a corner of fencing as he ran, spinning him around and knocking him to the ground. The breedless dog animatronic was right behind him, and skidded to a stop, looking at the fallen guard with concern.

"You okay?" it asked, tilting its head to the left. Dalton said nothing and began scrambling backwards. Soon the other two animatronics arrived at the scene, the dragon watching his actions with contempt.

"I say, ye are acting quite deplorably. On your feet with you," it said, before walking over and hoisting Dalton upward by the front of his uniform. It nodded in approval and stepped back, arms crossed. "Much more acceptable." Dalton began backing away, until the German shepherd held up a hand.

"Stop," it commanded, with such an air of authority Dalton found himself complying, "Vhy are you running away?"

"It, um, I, uh… what?" Dalton stammered, legs trembling slightly. The wolf-dog (Dalton finally saw the mix) frowned.

"Something's got him spooked," it observed. The shepherd's face immediately showed concern.

"Vhat's wrong?" it asked, and looked around, "Is something happening?"

"Y-yeah, I guess you could say that," Dalton replied, inching backwards again. The shepherd tilted his head slightly.

"It's us, isn't it? You're afraid of us, aren't you?" it asked, confused. Dalton simply nodded. The wolf-dog grinned.

"You don't have to be scared! Hi, I'm Max, what's your name?" Maxwell said, extending out a paw. Dalton stared at it. Maxwell shook it slightly, "C'mon, pal, put 'er there!" Dalton slowly reached out and grabbed the offered paw, which immediately closed around his hand in a vice-like grip, nearly crushing it. Dalton shouted out in pain, and Maxwell immediately let go.

"Shoot, sorry! I haven't done that before!" he apologized. Dalton clutched his throbbing hand with his other one.

"Gah, son of a bitch, _ow_," he said, sucking air through his teeth, "Ya need practice."

"Is your hand okay?" Max asked, trying to look at it through the hand cradling it.

"I think so. Just hurts."

"You're not still scared, are you?"

"To be honest, I am a little bit," Dalton said honestly, disarmed by Maxwell's innocent tone, "What… are you, exactly?" The German shepherd stepped forward at the question.

"New Vave Robotics Intellitronic Model 808, Character designation 'Baron von Pizzä'," Baron replied robotically, eyes unfocused, before blinking and looking at Dalton, "But please, call me Baron."

"I am Sir Drake, of Pizza Bar-," Drake seemed to catch himself, "Unallianced." The last word was said in an almost melancholic tone.

"And I'm Maxwell, but you knew that already!" Maxwell said happily. Dalton nodded.

"Alrighty then," he said, rubbing the back of his hand, "If y'all ain't gonna hurt me, I guess we're okay…"

"Now, can you answer some questions of ours?" Baron asked.

"Sure."

"Vhere are ve, exactly?"

* * *

Dalton explained that the three robots must have been intended to be used in the ride that was currently being built. They seemed to vaguely understand what they were doing, and acknowledged their new roles. The three also told the story of how they became sentient, of Pizza Baron, and what happened to Foxy. Dalton shuddered when they mentioned Christina.

"I knew they were trouble," he said.

"What did that mean, anyway?" Maxwell asked, but they were interrupted by Jeremy calling out.

"Dalton? You okay over here?" The guard walked, slight limp visible, around the corner of the construction site. He stopped, staring at the animatronics. An awkward several second silence hung, until Jeremy broke it.

"I see," he said simply, "And what're your stories?"

* * *

The animatronics told their story for the second time, Jeremy listening silently, occasionally nodding, and after they finished, stood with his hand on his chin, deep in thought.

"Well, alright," he said, looking up.

"Alright what?" Baron asked.

"Alright, I get it," Jeremy replied.

"And exactly what doth thou 'get'?" Drake asked.

"Well, you guys have Fazbear tech in you. Guess that's why you're acting the way you are. I used to work for them, so I understand a little bit about how that works. Every night at midnight the Free Roam program or whatever it's called starts up, and you can walk around freely," Jeremy explained, more for Dalton's benefit than anyone else's, "And at six you'll go back into… sleep mode or whatever it is. It's not that big of a deal."

"It's not?" Dalton asked the senior guard. He shook his head.

"Nope. All we have to do is just keep them away from the rest of the guards at night, since they probably won't be too happy about this. Other than that, aside from making sure they get back to the ride in time, it's business as usual," Jeremy said.

"You're rather calm about all this," Baron observed. Jeremy shrugged.

"I spent two years disarming bombs," he said, "Can't get much more stressful than that." Dalton arched his eyebrows in surprise.

"You were an EOD tech? Whoa. You have to have, like, the _biggest_ balls," Dalton said. Again, Jeremy shrugged.

"It's not that special. And also, _ew_," he said, and checked his watch. "You guys have a couple hours. Dalton, you're officially responsible for them. Make sure they follow the plan and stay away from the rest of the guards. I'll help you out, but if I linger around they might ask questions. Good luck."

With that, Jeremy walked away to patrol other areas of the park. Dalton and the animatronics stood around awkwardly, the guard putting his hands on his hips and looking around. Only then did it click where he was.

"Oh my God, it's _Kiddy Land!_" he said, a stupid grin on his face. Baron, Maxwell, and Drake looked at him in confusion at his random outburst. Suddenly, Max stepped forward.

"Can you help me find my keytar?"

* * *

_**A/N: Hey howdy hey readers, writers, and FBI informants. I'm back! And let me be the first (and probably only) person to welcome you to the "Just Another Night at Freddy's" Custom Night (or the Night Formerly Known as Seven). With that little bit out of the way, let me explain to you exactly what this means. **_

_*****__**ACTUALLY READ THIS IT'S IMPORTANT***_

_Have you ever wanted something to happen in "Just Another Night at Freddy's," only to be disappointed that I never read your mind?_

_Do you have a totally awesome/badass/radical/cool/ballin'/swagalicious/dope idea for a story? _

_Do you have an original one-shot set in the JANaF universe, but didn't want to upload it for fear of rejection by your fellow peers and/or authority figures? (Or you simply didn't want to make an account?)_

_Are you tired of these really passive-aggressive questions?_

_Well, dear reader, Night Seven is for you! That's right, this is a night that in which none of the premises for these stories are mine, where the next story is written by you! (not literally, unless you submit a one-shot)_

"_But wait a minute DeltaV, isn't this just a cop-out because you're running out of ideas?" I hear you say. Well let me clear that up right now!_

_Yes. _

_Now then, let's switch out of this italicized font for the rules:_

* * *

**Rules**

**-MUST be set in the Just Another Night at Freddy's universe (for obvious reasons).**

**-CANNOT be a crossover with anything not related to Five Nights at Freddy's. **

**-CAN include OC's, but understand that they will be my interpretation based on intel you give me**

**-CANNOT involve pairings. I do not ship, I'm a pilot. (Real reason: I'm TERRIBLE at romance. It serves you just as much as me). **

**-MUST BE A ONE-SHOT, NO SAGAS**

**-***_**CANNOT RELATE TO FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY'S 3**_*** (Why? Night Eight)**

**-KEEP it ground in reality, at least a little bit. No aliens, demons, angels, zombies, vampires, werewolves (Lycanwriter777 took that idea anyway), Lovecraftian creatures, any form of apocalypse, the Spirits of the Dead Children, space travel, time travel, underwater travel, impromptu fully choreographed musical numbers, size changing, sex changing, uneven tire wear, real magicians, Vegas magicians, wizards, witches, warlocks, dwarves, Hobbits, one does not simply walk into Mordor, random pregnancies, planned pregnancies, getting turned into babies, getting turned into organic creatures, random bullshit, organized bullshit, bread, eggs, breaded eggs, milk, squick, you lost the game, never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you**

**-FOLLOW established headcanon for the JANaF universe**

**-DO NOT change established characters' sex, age (unless it's in the past, a la Golden Years), personality (unless taking place before a canonical change)**

_I think that about covers that. Now, back to bold for how to submit ideas._

* * *

**How to Submit:**

**-For those with a Fanfiction account (and this is preferred because of PM's), simply send me a Private Message with a basic summary of your idea. Clarifying questions may be asked, so be prepared to respond. You can send your ideas either directly to me or to my colleagues Arm Chair General and KamikazeRebel. Sending it to one or the others will not affect response time, nor favoritism. **

**-For those who are a Guest (i.e.: Don't have an account), leave a review on ****CHAPTER ONE ONLY**** with your preferred penname and a brief summary of your idea. ****SUBMIT AN IDEA ONLY ONCE.**** If a similar idea is presented in the viewable review section, the earliest one will be considered the legitimate submission, so it is recommended to read through the reviews before submitting to ensure you won't accidentally plagiarize. **

**-For those with one-shots they would like to present for my editing, send them to my author's email: , or through a note on my DeviantART page if you happen to have an account there. If you do, feel free to post it on your own page if you'd rather I didn't edit them for this story. You will be advertised in the next chapter.**

* * *

**A Message from Delta:**

_**Going back to my italicized bold and stepping out of character for a moment, I want to tell you all one thing: Thank You. The reason I want to do this is because I have been fortunate enough to have gained a significant following in the world of Five Nights fanfiction. Even right now, Night One has received over 70,000 views. It might not mean a whole lot, but it does to me. I never expected to be as popular as I am, and this entire night is a sort of way of thanking you, by giving your ideas all of the attention and support that mine received. I have no idea how many I'll receive, but I'm eager to find out. It's a thrill for me to see people enjoying my little tales, and I'm hoping I can keep entertaining you all in the near future. So, I want to say, very earnestly and honestly:**_

_**Welcome to Night Seven**_

_**-DeltaV "It's more like an Author's Terms of Service, really."**_


	2. The Runaway, By Arm Chair General

**The Runaway**

**An original one-shot by: Arm Chair General**

**Edited by: DeltaV**

_**A/N: Hey it's Delta! Just super quick, before we go on, if you happen to have a one-shot of your own, send it to (at symbol) . Keep 'em coming, and the next will be up soon!**_

It was cold for a March night, the afternoon rain cleansing the air and adding more bite to the nippy weather. It was still winter of course but it had been unusually warm this year, feeling more like the Spring that was traditionally a few more months away. People were snuggled up in chairs or on couches in front of a roaring fire or flashing television screen, tucked within the protective barriers of their homes and enjoying a lazy Sunday night before the hectic business week began anew. That is, except for one individual who braved the late night cold as she trudged through frosty breezes and chilling puddles, sweater not sufficient protection against the unexpected weather. Clutching a small bag and faded purple lunch box, tucking against herself to trap the warmth, she was beginning to suspect that running away to live on her own was not as good an idea as she thought. The decision to go was a complete spur of the moment after yet another long and loud argument with her parents, yet the concept of running away from home had been in her thoughts for a good couple of weeks.

The past month had been a kind of downward spiral in her life: falling out with her long time friend, failing a number of tests, the embarrassment of being laughed at by her crush at school, and the constant arguments with her parents over what she could wear, which parties she could go to, cleaning her room, grades, and countless other missteps and failings. Tonight had been the tipping point and she decided that her parents would be much happier with her gone and that she could find happiness somewhere else. Now, as she wandered the streets with red cheeks, pale hands, and numb toes, the ridiculousness of her decision seemed more and more apparent. Her parents, furious though they would be, were far more welcoming than the faded buildings and looming shadows cast by the street lights. Home. Home was where she should be. Cursing her stupidity she turned on a heel and for the first time that night really took in her surroundings. Nothing looked remotely familiar. Panic set in as she realized that her destination-less wandering had placed her in a part of town she had never visited before. She looked frantically at the street signs and billboards, looking for any familiarity. She found none, and the rumble of thunder caused her to look to the cloud heavy sky above. Droplets splattered onto her face and as a desperate race back the way she came began the sprinkling shifted to shower then shifted to deluge. That was when, shivering and soaked to the bone, she found herself under a filthy awning in front of a faded building with a glass window whose spider-web crack reflected the light at odd angles.

The place was clearly abandoned yet the front doors, dented though they were, proved very secure and very much locked. A desperate and sodden search yielded the discovery of a side entrance that looked promising. Stepping towards it her waterlogged tennis shoe kicked a suspiciously placed rock. Glancing down saw the sudden manifestation of an equally suspicious key and upon picking it up and placing it in the lock said key produced a satisfying click and the door swung open. The doorway before her was dark, quiet, and still, appearing to almost be a portal to another world. Hoping that the new world would be drier than her current one, she dashed inside and closed the door with a slam. The sound reverberated off the dirty walls, faded posters, and floating balloons and deep within the bowels of the building, something stirred, ready to greet the newest guests to this amazing land of play and make-believe.

**Game Area**

**The First Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

**March 23, 2003**

**Two Weeks after the Events of Night Six**

Balloon Boy activated with a start as a loud bang resounded off the crumbling walls of the restaurant, causing him to release the balloon he was holding. With a disappointed pout he watched it bump against the ceiling, joining other balloons in a gaggle of colored rubber. It was then that he noticed another sound, a familiar sound, his _favorite_ sound. With a squeal of delight he raced to the front entrance, slamming his hands on the damaged glass as he peered through the tinted surface, night vision helping to compensate. It was raining!

BB watched with glee as rain pummeled the street, buildings, light posts, benches, everything! He loved it when it rained just as much as he loved it when it didn't. His smile grew as Balloon Boy reveled in the spectacle but then yet another noise drew the diminutive animatronic's attention away from the window and down the long hallway to the Security Office. Footsteps! And not metallic footsteps either or the squeaking of Marion's wheels but footsteps he remembered hearing when Nathan had plugged him into a big glowy thing that made clacking noises. Footsteps caused by the odd things guests wore on their feet. Shoe footsteps! People footsteps! They had a guest! Grinning broadly in excitement Balloon Boy began to run down the hall before he skidded to a stop. _I gotta make them a balloon_! His dexterous hands shaking with excitement BB grabbed a balloon from the drawer in his chest and placed it to the nozzle in his mouth. Hissing softly as he released the helium from his tank, Balloon Boy watched with satisfaction as an expanding ball of light blue rubber gradually blocked his vision. Pinching the opening tight with one hand, Balloon Boy headed back to the Game Area and his rack of colored string. Once he finished his balloon he would go and greet the new guest before they left again like all the others.

**Security Office**

Meagan Dickson bundled up tightly in a dingy blanket she had found in the large desk in front of her. After entering the building she was surprised to find it not an empty shell but a furnished and relatively clean child's restaurant. Wandering down a hallway which still had working, if sporadically placed, lights she had stumbled upon this office. A large desk dominated the space, a torn office chair facing over it and out the door-less entrance down a long, dark hallway. Child's drawings and posters of animatronic animals covered the walls and a small assortment of small, stuffed animals were lined up, facing the chair with joyful smiles (except for a yellow bear sporting a top hat, which looked out down the hall as if on guard duty). A fan was placed to one side and was still spinning merrily, its presence somehow comforting. A large tablet that was connected to the wall by a large cord sat in the center of the desk and behind the chair was an empty red box that must have once held a fire extinguisher. Placing her bag and lunchbox opposite the fan, Meagan had sat in the chair with relief. The posters on the walls invited her to play, sing, and celebrate with the restaurant's animal mascots and welcomed her to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. The name sounded familiar and Meagan was pretty sure another restaurant across town shared the name. This intrigued her, but right now getting warm and dry was her main priority.

Now wrapped tightly in the blanket's wooly embrace, and her spare, dry set of clothes Meagan picked up the large tablet. Its screen was scratched and it was surprisingly heavy as she eased it onto her lap. Fiddling with some buttons on the side, Meagan pushed one and the screen flashed on. A logo for a company called "Animatronics Limited" appeared and a white line slowly made its way across the screen. Immediately after the line impacted the screen's frame the image shifted to that of what must have been a security camera mounted somewhere in the building. The camera showed three anthropomorphic animals grinning happily from their stage. The group consisted of a light blue rabbit, a yellow duck, and brown bear. Both had matching smiles and rosy cheeks and the same plastic-looking shells. The rabbit cradled a red V-shaped guitar while the duck held a cupcake and wore a bib that proudly read "CELEBRATE!" and what appeared to be pink frilly underwear. These two stood behind and to either side of the bear who held a microphone and wore a top hat with a red band just above the brim. A creepy robot band in a creepy abandoned restaurant. Meagan shuddered at the thought of the machines suddenly turning and looking into the camera and tapped a box on the screen. The image suddenly changed to that of a row of tables still covered by table cloths and battered party hats. A note on the bottom of the screen read "Party Room Two."

Any further fiddling was interrupted by an unseen clock striking midnight and Meagan jumped in her chair, tablet falling from her hands. The tablet clattered to the floor beneath the desk and Meagan cursed under her breath. Clutching the blanket to her she leaned down as far as she could and groped blindly for the tablet. Grasping its cord, she pulled it up and back into her lap. Placing it back where she found it Meagan's eyes darted up when she thought she heard the sound of laughter. A small animatronic grinned at her, light blue balloon bobbing in one hand while in the other it grasped a sign proclaiming "BALLOONS!" Its round head was placed on an equally round body colored to look like a red and blue striped shirt with three buttons. A propeller beanie was atop his head. Meagan stared back in shock as the thing's smile grew broader.

"Hi!" it said in a high, happy voice. "Do you want a balloon?!" And then Meagan screamed.

**Show Stage**

Toy Bonnie activated along with his friends to the sound of the clock's chime. Just like every other night, the trio greeted each other.

"Hello gang!" Came Toy Freddy's consistent greeting, goofy voice never failing to sound joyful.

"Hello Freddy!" was the response from the bear's band mates. If they were still performing, this was the dialogue that would play before each show.

"I wonder if today is one of Marion's meetings!" Toy Chica said hopefully in her bubbly voice that had so annoyed her counterpart. "OOOH! I hope Nathan or Phil comes tonight!"

"Yeah, I miss those guys when they're gone." Toy Bonnie added, "Nathan's funny, always pretending not to know about Marion. The guy is such a kidder!"

"But Bonnie, Nathan has never met Marion. He always charges in his box when Nathan is around." Toy Freddy reminded with a laugh. The blue rabbit scratched an ear in thought.

"Huh, you're right! Say, have I ever asked you what your favorite part of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is?" Bonnie's friends lit up at the question, it being one of their favorites. This was, of course, intentional on the programmer's part to promote the many activities in the restaurant during a show. Recently, more and more of the animatronics' old show scripts leaked into their logic, prompting them to ask questions used to promote the gift shop, encourage guests to participate, and keep the focus of children.

"Only, like, a thousand times! Mine's the desserts!" Chica responded, dutifully waving her cupcake.

"I like visiting the gift shop with friends, they have such neat stuff in there!" Freddy answered gleefully.

"I love rocking it out with you guys!" Bonnie said, answering his own question with a riff on his electric guitar. No sound except the clacking of his metal fingers came out of the long broken instrument but the trio failed to notice, busy reciting the required exchange.

"Me too Bonnie, what about you boys and girls? What's your favorite thing?" Freddy asked the empty room. The faint pounding of rain greeted them. "I said, what about you boys and-." Freddy stopped abruptly as the lack of noise triggered his path finding to scan for the sound of children, namely laughter, screaming, talking, and chewing. The Toys stood awkwardly in silence, Bonnie growing more and more uncomfortable. The rabbit shifted from foot to foot as his path finding came up blank. No laughter, no children, no fun, no purpose. Their grins dropped as they remembered their current state. They were alone in the building again, just themselves and their friends Mangle, Balloon Boy, Goldie (AKA Eddy), and Marion. The seven robots had been together since their activation and had long developed both an individual sense of self and a form of unified existence. Bonnie and his friends, with the exception of Marion, felt incredibly alone despite the constant companionship of each other. That was why Marion played his music box, encouraged play, and gave them chores to do. It gave the animatronics a sense of purpose and distracted them from the ever growing fear of abandonment.

The sudden sound of squeaking joints and crumbling dry wall signaled the approach of Mangle, who dangled from the ceiling. She grinned at her friends who grinned back, her noise and presence halting their scans.

"_Hi everybody!" _The tattered fox greeted happily, second and non-functioning head swinging wildly as she crawled along the ceiling.

"Hi Mangle!" the band returned, delighted that the fox had ended their fruitless scans.

"_Do you guys want to hear a story?"_ she asked, her voice a distorted array of static and intercepted radio signals which the others decoded with ease. Marion never seemed to be able to understand the fox but the others were more than happy to translate.

"Do bears live in the woods?" Freddy asked with a laugh. "Which they do, I should know!"

"How _do_ you know Freddy?" Chica asked, knowing which of the leader's many groan inducing jokes was coming, if it could even be considered one.

"'Cause I _am _a bear silly!" Freddy replied with a belly laugh. The others laughed along, Mangle's coming out in a choppy mess of static. A sudden scream caused them all to jump, Mangle nearly losing her hold of the ceiling.

"W-what was that?" Bonnie asked, spooked. They glanced around, finding nothing.

"_It came from the Security Office, it sounded like a child!_" Mangle announced, head swiveling to look towards the source.

"A kid?! Jumpin' jiminy gang, we gotta go help! Come on!" Freddy ordered and raced towards down the hall. Chica hurried after and Mangle crawled onto Bonnie and wrapped herself around, head looking over his shoulder.

"Let's go Mangle, whoever is there might be in trouble!" Mangle nodded in agreement and the pair raced off after the bear and chicken.

**Security Office**

"AAAAH!" Meagan screamed.

"AAAAH!" Came the robot's reply, grin on his face.

"AAAAAAHHHH!" Meagan kept screaming, pushing herself and her chair as far away from the animatronic as possible. When her back hit the wall she fell silent, shaking.

"AAAAAAHHHH!" the animatronic yelled back before clapping its hands together with glee, the balloon it was floating rising up to bump into the ceiling. "I like this game, what do you call it?" He then looked up at the balloon, now unreachable as it drifted with the air conditioning, and frowned. "Aww, that's the second one today, and it was yours too, I'm sorry." To Meagan's shock it slumped in on itself in shame before instantly perking up again. "It's okay, I can make you a new one!" A drawer popped out of its chest at the second button and it dropped its sign to the ground as it rummaged through with both hands. "What's your favorite color? Mine's all of them!"

Meagan was at a loss for words as the machine waited patiently, grin on its face. "W-what are you?" she asked quietly.

"Blue?! Ha, I got it right the first time! I _knew _you would like blue!" it, no _he_, it's voice sounded like a young boy's, pulled out a limp blue balloon and put it to his mouth. A soft hiss, just audible over Meagan's pounding heart, was heard and the balloon began to rapidly inflate. Once the balloon had seemed to reach the acceptable size the automaton removed it from his mouth and deftly, albeit slowly, tied the valve shut. "Oh, wait, I forgot the string!" he announced, "Do you have any?" Meagan still didn't move but the robot didn't seem to notice. Instead it began looking around the office, head rotating a full 360 degrees. Meagan whimpered at the sight and the round little robot whirled its head back around, staring at her in confusion before his eyes widened in glee.

"Ah ha, there's some!" he cheered and darted forward, grabbing a lose thread from her replacement sweater. Meagan screamed and kicked the robot away, her supposed attacker toppling backwards. She stood up to run when the sound of clanking footsteps drew her frightened gaze to the hall. The robotic band she had seen in the camera came charging in, faces concerned and when they saw her instantly skidded to a halt.

"Hey there pal, what seems ta' be tha' matter?" the bear asked.

"Uh, uh." Meagan said, eyes wide in fright as she slowly backed away from the group.

"A little help please!" the balloon inflating animatronic cried as he struggled to right himself, balloon still clutched in his hand.

"Oh my gosh, BB what happened?" the duck asked and hurried over to help the shorter 'bot to his feet. BB pouted and pointed at Meagan.

"She kicked me!" he tattled before crossing his arms and deepening his pout.

"You did? Now why would you do something so mean?" the blue rabbit asked, cradling his guitar.

Meagan began shaking as the bear and rabbit waited for an answer, continuing her retreat. The sudden appearance of an upside down white fox head caused her to jump back, hitting the desk as it put its muzzle right up to her face.

"_Bryssszzrt_?" it asked, tilting its head slightly to the right. Another head, smaller and metallic, flopped down. The duck continued to fret over BB.

"Are you okay?" She asked. BB began to shake his head before breaking into a large grin and nodding.

"Yep! She's kinda mean but I like her! We played this great game, wanna play?" BB didn't wait for an answer and immediately began screaming. Meagan and the other animatronics jumped and the bear, rabbit and fox whirled around to face him. Meagan saw her chance and dashed away down the hall.

"Hey, wait!" the rabbit called after but Meagan ignored him and kept running, dashing into the first room she saw, just having enough time to read the sign above the door. It read: "Parts and Service"

**Parts and Service**

Goldie, previously called Eddy due to that stupid puppet, was awakened by the slamming of his door. Parts and Services technically wasn't his but seeing as how he was the only one who quote unquote slept here he considered it his room. Goldie groaned inwardly as his audio and sensory receptors activated but just like every other wakeup call he had to endure, his world was that of utter darkness. Goldie was the oldest animatronic in the restaurant, having been built by Animatronics Limited several years before the opening of his current home. He had been sold to a small restaurant in Arizona called Fred Bear's Family Diner and became their mascot. However, after an intoxicated employee accidentally backed his car into a mother's currently occupied baby stroller, the diner was forced to close after a hefty lawsuit. The baby recovered fully, much to the relief of all involved, but it was enough to put the restaurant so far in the red that it could no longer afford the payments it made to Animatronics Limited. After missing 12 payments to the marketing division of the company, a sympathetic Mr. Fazbach was forced to repossess him.

Returned to his place of birth, Goldie was given a new yellow suit and upgraded to be able to move and talk on his own. Originally intended to be a member of the band, he was later dropped when the animatronics that would become Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica were redesigned to be smaller with a hard outer shell. Thus, Goldie was unceremoniously tossed into Parts and Service where he was kept as a spare. He earned his name after the staff began referring to him as "Yellow Freddy," Golden Freddy," then just simply "Goldie." He laid in a powered off state until Gerald and Phil yanked him out of his suit, damaging his legs and activating him. His loss of sight was actually pretty recent, only a year ago when he fell off his table and landed on his head, severing the connections. Now, after years of neglect and the loss of his sight, Goldie became the sole pessimist of the Fazbear family and was not happy for such a rude interruption on his path to oblivion.

"For the last time Bonnie, I do _not _want to play tag! I can't even use my legs and besides, I _hate_ tag!" Instead of the expected cheerful reminder that "he hated everything" Goldie heard a scream that he recognized as that of a younger girl. Goldie was stunned into silence as frantic footsteps moved away from him.

"H-hello?" came a tentative voice, quivering. Goldie sighed in annoyance.

"Yes, _hello_, there is someone in here!" he called back from his table, rolling his functionless eyes.

"W-where are y-you?" the girl asked again.

"Not in a suit and performing, that's where!" Goldie replied bitterly. "What do you want, besides to interrupt my glorious decay?"

"Can you help me? There are robots out there!"

"_No,_ really? I hadn't noticed! Look, are you going to keep wasting my time or can I go back to sleep?"

"Just please tell me where you are!" the girl begged. Goldie groaned before sitting up on his table, arms spread wide in what he hoped looked like a display of grandeur.

"Ta da, now go away!" Apparently the girl had the same idea and she screamed again, louder this time, and raced back out the door. Goldie fell back against his table with a clang and groaned again. He hated dealing with humans.

**Party Room B**

Meagan kept on running after seeing the metal skeleton rise up from a table and now found herself in one of the party rooms. Party hats sat in line on tables that sat in line on the floor while torn and drooping banners covered the ceiling. She darted past, looking fearfully back towards Parts and Service when she collided with something hard, plastic, and blue.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there! Are you alright?" Meagan looked up at the concerned face of the blue rabbit and scrambled backwards only to hit the brown feet of the bear.

"Easy there buddy, why did ya run off like that?" he asked. Meagan scrambled to her feet only to be blocked by the yellow duck.

"Hey, are you still scared?" she asked. "Want a hug?" Meagan whirled around and nearly plowed into BB, who held up her blue balloon in triumph.

"Look, I got you a string!" he waved the balloon in emphasis. Megan spun only to come face to face with the single glowing eye of the tattered fox.

"_Bryzzrt_?" it asked. Clanking and pounding sounded from the vent and the metal skeleton immerged, crawling on the floor dragging his useless legs behind him.

"Keep it down will you, I hate noise!" Meagan spun and whirled about but a metal face blocked every way out and every line of sight. She was surrounded.

"Hey buddy, what's wrong?"

"You sure you're okay, you hit me pretty hard."

"Why are you spinning like that, do you want to dance?"

"Don't you want your balloon, I love ballons!"

"Brzzyrtssrytzrty!"

"I hate balloons BB, get that thing away from me!"

The deluge of concerned, happy, annoyed, and static voices swirled around and Meagan quickly realized there was no escape. She collapsed and curled up in a ball and began sobbing. She wanted to go home, she wished she hadn't run away, she wanted these things to leave her alone.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?" came a new and powerful voice and the animatronics fell silent as the squeaking of wheels approached the group, accompanied by the faint melody of _My Grandfather's Clock_.

**Prize Corner**

Marion rose out of his gift box and replaced the lid before going over to wind his music box. It was well past midnight and no doubt his charges were growing restless from the lack of noise. Using his floppy arms he miraculously grabbed the crank and wound it tight. The gramophone drum began to spin and music drifted softly from the device. Marion sighed in contentment and began to organize the assorted plush animals and toys from where they had been moved when Balloon Boy had been playing with them the previous night. A scream from the other side of the restaurant and the slamming of the Parts and Service door had Marion rolling as fast as the suspension mount could go.

Wheels squeaking fiercely he came upon the rest of the animatronics clustered around a young girl 14 years in age. She was curled up in a pitiful ball and clearly sobbing. Naturally, Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Mangle, Balloon Boy, and Goldie were completely ignorant to the terrifying nature of their appearance and were bombarding her with questions and demands.

"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!" Marion asked, having to shout over the other animatronics. They instantly fell silent as Marion crossed his silk arms. "Well?"

"We have a guest!" Balloon Boy said happily, pointing to the girl. He looked at her before looking back at Marion. "She's not very happy though."

"I can see that BB, thank you. Back up, give her some space." The animatronics obliged and Marion slowly wheeled over, his constant smile still somehow radiating concern and sympathy. "Are you alright?" The girl looked up and balked at Marion, who backed up slightly. Marion's glowing camera eyes scanned her face, noting the tear tracts down her cheeks and still damp hair.

"W-who are you?" she asked, voice quivering.

"I am The Marionette, though you can call me Marion. What is your name?" Marion focused his energy on creating an aura of calm and confidence.

"M-Meagan." She said, sniffling.

"What a lovely name. I would like to apologize on behalf of my friends here. They love to meet new people and sometimes they can't restrain themselves."

"Speak for yourself, I was perfectly restrained till she woke me up!" Goldie muttered, not happy about the reprimand.

"Eddy, hush," Bonnie commanded. Goldie bristled.

"That's _not_ my name dang it!"

"_Goldie._" Marion warned, annoyed. The endoskeleton held up his hands in submission and Marion turned back to a confused Meagan. "I'm sorry they scared you Meagan, I assure you they had no intent on harming you. I'm afraid they got off on the wrong foot."

"But my feet look the same Marion, which one's the wrong one?" Balloon Boy asked, staring at his round feet. Marion turned, aura that of a bemused smile despite the constant, almost psychotic, grin.

"It's an expression BB, now please let me talk to our guest here. Why don't you all go play Statues hrm?" The animatronics grinned and shuffled out of the party room to the Game Area. Meagan curled up as they walked past while Marion watched proudly, sinking to her level. Goldie huffed and crawled back into the vent.

"I hate statues," he grumbled from the shaft on his way back to his table.

"You hate everything!" Freddy reminded cheerfully over his shoulder as he disappeared around a corner. Marion turned towards Meagan, who curled up in his gaze.

"Now then," he began gently. "Tell me why you ran away from home." Meagan looked at him in shock.

"How did you know?"

"I watch people Meagan, and I have seen numerous runaways." He rose and began to roll back towards the Security Office, waving for her to follow. "Let's talk in the office, it has a coffee machine that should still work. There should still be some powder left from when Nathan was here." Meagan, confused, scared, yet oddly comforted by the puppet's soft words and warm smile, followed.

**Security Office**

The coffee cup clutched in her hands and the coffee in her stomach warmed Meagan far better than the blanket had before. She sat nervously as Marion stared at some posters on the wall, patiently waiting for her to speak. Something was off about the puppet. Of course, the whole situation of dealing with anthropomorphic robotic animals that could move and talk on their own was unnerving in itself but Marion himself, despite the calm and warmth he somehow exuded, put her on edge. His constant smile never wavered yet he could portray countless emotions and had this aura surrounding him, as if he was deeper than he seemed to be, less… mortal.

Meagan shook her head at the thought. Of course he didn't seem alive, he was a machine like the others. A machine that could move, think, and talk at will.

"Would you like more coffee Meagan?" Marion asked, not looking at her. Marion looked down at her empty mug and frowned. _How did he do that?_

"Uh, n-no, I'm fine." Marion turned and she shriveled under his gaze. He sighed.

"I understand this whole situation must be most unsettling for you but as I said before neither I nor my companions have any ill intent towards you."

"They have a funny way of showing it." Meagan muttered, somehow growing more relaxed. Again the source seemed to come from the puppet.

"Freddy and his band were designed to entertain children but they are very much children themselves. You'll have to excuse their exuberance." Marion explained with no small amount of pride.

"What about you?" Meagan asked. Marion shrugged, turning away.

"We're getting off-topic. We were going to discuss your sudden appearance here. Why did you run away?" He again turned back to face her yet this time he was far less intimidating. She could trust him, she could feel it.

"It was a lot of things. Arguments mostly. Me and Melanie fought, me and my parents fought. Cody made fun of me-."

"I see, and who is Cody?" Marion asked, lowering himself to her eye level.

"That's none of your business!" Meagan replied hotly. Marion nodded in understanding, unfazed.

"Very well, continue."

"I'd been thinking about it a lot actually. Then, after my parents said I couldn't go with friends to this beach bonfire thing I decided I would go find a new place where people loved me and cared about me. It all seems pretty stupid now." Meagan hung her head, embarrassed.

"There is nothing wrong with how you feel Meagan. Your feelings are your feelings and there is no wrong way to feel, only the wrong way to act out those feelings. I've watched hundreds of people wander this building. Some never left it." Marion paused, looking down the hallway towards the janitorial closet. He sighed and looked back at her. "They all felt things, some were happy, others sad. Some were disturbed. And some felt… unloved. In a way you and my friends are the same." Meagan perked up.

"We are, how? I mean, they're machines right?" Marion shook his head and she felt a brief sense of frustration.

"No, they are much more than that. They are as alive as you are. And they have feelings too. Just not as many. They are programmed to be happy, social, and with a love of play. They each took it to different extremes. But that is not all they feel. They're afraid, Meagan. Afraid that no one loves them and that they will be left to rot. Even Goldie fears his abandonment, no matter what he says. Just like you they want to feel loved and know that someone out there cares for them. Someone to teach right and wrong, good and evil, and can give them all the love they deserve." Meagan's eyes widened.

"You, you're that person!" Marion nodded and Meagan felt a sense of pride.

"Indeed, just as your parents love you. They care about you despite whatever harsh words or raised voices they use. They want what is best for you, and they want to feel as loved by you as you want to feel loved by them. Do you understand?"

"I-I think so Mr. Marionette." Marion seemed to swell with pride.

"Good, now I think it's time you met Freddy and his friends properly, with less screaming. Then we shall see about getting you back home." With that Marion again gestured for her to follow him before wheeling out down the long hallway towards the Game Area.

**Game Area**

"Ha! I got you this- shoot!" Bonnie's celebration cut short when upon turning around he saw all his friends frozen. "I'll get you next time." He turned his back to them and the rest of the animatronics immediately began moving around the Game Area, being surprisingly quiet. Bonnie suddenly whirled around and Freddy was caught mid-stride. Clearly putting his foot down when Bonnie saw the blue rabbit immediately pointed to his companion, who froze. "I saw that ha ha! Your turn now!"

"Ha ha, you got me pal, okay, let's trade places."

"Having fun?" Marion's voice suddenly asked. The animatronics spun to face the newest arrivals.

"Marion, Meagan!" Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Balloon Boy, and Mangle greeted, though Mangle's came out in a burst of static. Goldie waved casually from where he had propped himself up against the carousel. The empty space he waved to did not wave back.

"We've been playing statues!" Chica said happily. "Eddy's not very good though."

"That's because I can't see idiot! And my name's not Eddy!" Goldie called from his place.

`"Language Goldie," Marion reprimanded. "Please apologize, I don't want you to be rude to each other."

"Ok, ok, sheesh. I'm sorry I guess." Goldie said, raising his arms in submission.

"Apology accepted Eddy!" Chica replied happily.

"That's not my- oh, I see, you're being cheeky." Goldie huffed. "Very funny chicken, very funny."

"_Would you two like to play?"_ Mangle asked, swinging excitedly from the ceiling.

"Pardon?" Marion asked.

"She asked if you guys want to play!" Balloon Boy translated. "Do you?!" Marion shook his head.

"I'd rather watch, you're much better at games than I am. Before you return to your game I'd like you all too formally introduce yourselves." Marion moved aside so that Meagan, who had vainly tried to hide behind Marion's skinny form, was fully visible. "As you all know, this is Meagan. Meagan, these are my friends the pizzeria animatronics, the Fazbear Band, Kid's Cove Storyteller, Balloon Distributor, and the ex mascot of Fred Bear's Family Diner." Meagan waved shyly at the animatronics waved back. Freddy stepped forward.

"Hey there buddy, I'm Freddy Fazbear! Welcome to my pizzeria!" He suddenly stepped up and grabbed Meagan's hand. "Nice ta meet ya'!" He shook hands vigorously and when he let go Meagan grabbed her wrist and winced.

"H-hi Freddy." Meagan stammered back, now shaking her hand. The bear beamed and stepped back. Bonnie's turn was next and he stepped up and politely offered his hand.

"It's so nice to have a guest after so long! I'm Bonnie, the guitar player, you wanna jam?" Meagan grinned at the old slang and shook hands, Bonnie being much more gentle.

"Hello." Meagan replied. Bonnie stepped back and Chica stepped forward. Before Meagan could react she was in a crushing hug.

"Oh my gosh I'm _so_ happy you're not afraid of us anymore!" Chica squealed while Meagan gasped for breath. Chica let go and stepped back, hands on Meagan's shoulders. "I'm Chica, let's celebrate!"

"Hi." Meagan gasped, hunched over.

"Heh heh, you're making funny noises." Chica laughed. Marion chuckled as Balloon Boy stepped up, a fresh balloon in his hand.

"Hi, I'm Balloon Boy, and I make balloons. Do you want one, I can make you one. Do you like balloons, I _love_ balloons! When they pop, when they sink, when they float, say, is your favorite color blue still or did you change it? I like _all_ the colors so it's really hard-."

"Okay BB, she gets it." Marion said with a laugh. The short little robot then stuck up one of his dexterous hands and lightly shook it. Mangle suddenly swung down, muzzle to nose with Meagan. Meagan shrieked in surprise and Mangle instantly backed up.

"_Hello, my name is Mangle!_" the fox spurted out in a mess of static, grinning happily. Meagan looked at BB.

"She says hi and that her name is Mangle." Balloon Boy translated. Mangle nodded and snaked her still costumed hand to shake. Meagan was surprised by how tenderly the fox gripped her hand.

"A pleasure." Meagan replied. Mangle grinned even broader and swung clear. Goldie crawled up to Meagan and raised a hand. Meagan stepped to her right and grasped it. He shook it once.

"The Animatronic Formerly Known as Fred Bear." He replied bitterly. "Not that anyone cares."

"_I _care Eddy!" Freddy said with a laugh. "You're my favorite endoskeleton!"

"I'm the _only_ endoskeleton. And that's not my name!" Goldie shot a glare at the other bear, which missed, before turning back to face Meagan's general direction. "It's a great pleasure to meet you."

"Wow, that's probably the most positive thing you've said in years Eddy!" Bonnie commented.

"Don't rub it in, I've got an image to keep." Goldie grinned slightly at Meagan before it was replaced with his trademark frown. "I'll be going now. When you slowly decay your battery life goes down. Have a horrible night and unpleasant dreams!" He crawled into a vent and made his way back to Parts and Services.

"Good night Eddy!" the animatronics chorused.

"Night Goldie!" Meagan called.

"_See, _she gets it!" Goldie replied, muffled. Meagan turned to Marion who was shaking his head at Goldie's antics.

"What about you?" Meagan asked.

"We already met." Marion replied.

"Not formally." Meagan prodded. Marion's grim seemed to broaden (though it really didn't)

"I see, very well." Marion cleared his throat. "I am Animatronics Limited Advanced Puppetry Systems Model 005, Marionette. You can, as always, call me Marion."

"Ha, so you _are_ a robot like them!" Meagan pointed out. Marion nodded noncommitedly.

"To avoid confusion and difficult questions, yes, I am like the others." Marion. "Now that we all know each other properly it's time for the next thing on the list." He turned to face the other animatronics. "Meagan here needs to go back home now, so I will be helping her home. I know you all just got to say hello but it is time to say goodbye. Besides, it is almost 6:50." The animatronics sighed and Marion looked back at Meagan. "Who knows, maybe she will come back." Meagan nodded and the animatronics cheered before releasing a torrent of goodbyes before returning back to their original positions, happy that they were able to make a new friend.

**Security Office**

"So how are we going to get me home?" Meagan asked.

"Through an old trick a friend taught me. I'll need your help with the phone." Marion rolled over the desk to a phone on the desk that had been covered by Meagan's bags. "No doubt your parents will be looking for you, so I will simply tell them where to pick you up." Marion gestured to the phone. "Dial the number please then hold the receiver to my face." Meagan did so and the ringing could be heard. The phone was picked up almost immediately.

"_Hello?! Who is this?"_ A frantic voice asked from the other end of the line. Meagan felt a pang of guilt hearing her mother so upset.

"Hello, am I speaking to Meagan's parents?" Marion asked.

"_Yes, what have you done with her?! What are your demands?!"_

"That you simply come to 38 West Park Road and pick her up, she's tired and wants to come home now."

"_We'll come right away, oh thank you, thank you!"_

"No thanks is necessary, I'll be watching for your arrival. See you soon!" Marion ended the call pushing the receiver back into place. He looked at Meagan, who was in tears.

"You'd best go outside, the rain has stopped." Marion advised. Meagan nodded and began to leave before stopping.

"Will you wait with me?" Meagan asked. Marion's aura gave off a sensation of sympathy.

"I'm restricted by the wires, I can't-."

"Please?" Meagan asked again. "I don't want to be alone." Marion paused before nodding.

"Grab that chair, stand on it, and push the big red button on my rigging." Meagan did so and Marion flopped to the ground. Meagan picked him up and exited the building. She passed Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica frozen in place on stage and smiled at them. Meagan exited through the door she entered the building from and onto the damp streets. The sun just peeking over the buildings.

"Should I put you somewhere?" Meagan asked but Marion did not reply. Instead, Meagan suddenly felt compelled to lean Marion against the front doors of the pizzeria. She gingerly set him down and began the long wait in silence. Eventually, a white mini-van rolled up and her parents hopped out as soon as they saw her. They ran towards one another and embraced in a flurry of tears, kisses, and apologies. As her parents helped into the van, Meagan took one last look at Marion but frowned. Dented doors stared back at her but all that was there was a faint dry spot where Marion's material had absorbed the water. The puppet was nowhere to be seen.

**A/N: **_**I hope you enjoyed this one-shot. I was honored when Delta said I could post it to this story. I look forward to seeing what you wonderful people can imagine! Warm regards and much respect! –Arm Chair General**_

**Parts and Service**

Goldie eased back on his table and was about to power down when he heard the squeaking of Marion's wheels. Groaning over the thought of what the puppet could possibly want he sat up and looked in the general direction of the sound.

"What do you want puppet?" Goldie asked.

"How much of Fred Bear's Diner do you remember Goldie?" Goldie groaned again at the question.

"What do you want to know?" he replied bitterly.

"How many animatronics were used there Goldie?"

"I told you the first time you asked, one, me!"

"And you were the only one to get a yellow suit when you came back?"

"As I told you before, no, that rabbit got one too before they scrapped him. Where are you going with this?" Marion paused before looking at the blind animatronic.

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Goldie blinked uselessly, frowning in confusion.

"No."


	3. Solar Storm, Premise by Jimmy-le-Sniper

_**Solar Storm**_

_**A Premise by: Jimmy-le-Sniper**_

"…In a discovery that could lead to a potential heat wave, scientists are predicting unusual solar activity to occur in the next several days. More on this as it develops. In other news, the lawsuit filed against Trout Entertainment by the National Office of Occupational Safety has concluded, with investigations still underway…"

The news at around three in the morning was rather dull, but considering the type of people that were typically awake at that time, it was safe to assume no one cared anyway, especially not the night guard at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, who had brought in a portable radio to listen to music while in his office. Mike Schmidt yawned and scratched absent-mindedly at the newly developed scars on his leg. Things were quiet, a nice alternative after the madness that had occurred over his relatively short time as guard.

Chica could be heard rummaging through pots and pans, occupying herself with all things culinary. Bonnie had taken it upon herself to redecorate the Security Office (again), and was currently sitting on the Show Stage, entirely focused on figuring out how scissors worked. Foxy, as per usual, was in Pirate's Cove doing who knew what (Mike always felt a sense of unease in there, it being the semi-crazed fox's domain and all), but the guard knew he was there as the curtains were closed. Freddy was wandering, hands clasped in front of him, looking around the darkened pizzeria.

Mike leaned back, hands folded over his stomach, and closed his eyes, dozing in the calm as the news segment ended and music resumed, the volume reduced to give it the same effect as soft white noise. Songs melded together as Mike's mind wandered, until he had a feeling of someone staring at him. Mike slowly opened his eyes, seeing Foxy's loosely hanging jaw fill his vision.

"Gah!" Mike exclaimed, and kicked himself backwards, upsetting his chair's balance and sending both it and himself toppling over.

"I though' ye weren' s'posed ta be snoozin', lad," Foxy said as he watched Mike pick himself up.

"You could have just shook me or something," Mike replied, "What do you want?"

"Jus' seein' wha' yer up ta," Foxy said, and walked away.

"_Seriously_?" Mike muttered to himself, and righted his chair, sitting down and leaning back once more.

No sooner had he closed his eyes when the phone on his desk rang. Mike groaned in annoyance and picked up the handset, holding to his ear.

"Hello?" he answered.

"_Hey, Mike, it's Nathan,_"

"Oh, hey," Mike replied, "Kinda late, don't you think? What's up?"

"_Have you been listening to the news_?" Nathan asked.

"Bits and pieces. Why? Are we in it?"

"_No_," Nathan replied, "_But they're saying that there's a definite chance of a solar storm hitting this part of the nation._"

Mike furrowed his brow, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Is that bad?" he asked.

"_Well, not to you or me, per say, but…_" Nathan seemed to be searching for the right words, "_Do you know what an EMP is?_"

"Kind of. Hurts electrical stuff, right? I think that one action flick made a big deal about it, coupled with a nuke or something," Mike said.

"_Alright, so you're familiar,_" Nathan said, "_Solar storms give off a lot of radiation, most of which is taken in by the atmosphere, which turns it into light. But it also has the effect of a low-yield EMP._"

Mike adjusted his position in his chair.

"I still don't quite understand why you had to call me."

"_EMPs can destroy electrical systems, right?_"

"Yeah…"

"_Well what do you think makes up Freddy and the others?_" Nathan asked. Mike sat up straight, gripping the handset tighter.

"…What will it do to them?" Mike asked. He could hear Nathan sigh.

"_I'm not sure. Could do nothing, could only cause a few glitches, or,_" Nathan swallowed, "_It could kill them._"

A prolonged silence settled over the conversation for several long seconds until Mike broke it.

"What do we do?" Mike asked.

"_I don't know. I've never had to deal with this before, events like this are apparently super rare. I don't know if they have anything that could shield them, how bad it'll be, I just don't know,_" Nathan replied, "_I'm going to look into this more and get back to you, but if worst comes to worse, I don't think there's anything we can do._"

"So you're saying this could be the end, then?"

"_I don't want to sound pessimistic, but… maybe,_" Nathan replied.

"When is it?" Mike asked.

"_The news didn't give a specific date, just that it was soon,_" Nathan answered, "_Just make the most of things in the meantime. I'm stopping by tomorrow._"

* * *

And indeed Nathan did, sneaking off into Pirate's Cove on the excuse he wanted to give Foxy a "check-up." He found the fox wandering around behind the curtains, yellow eyes glowing softly in the dark. They snapped in his direction when the mechanic parted the purple curtains.

"Ahoy there, matey," Foxy greeted, "Wha're ye doin' here at this time o' day?"

"Just… checking in…" Nathan replied awkwardly, eyes adjusting to the darkness, "Y'know, usual things…"

Foxy blinked.

"Ye seem sad, bucko," he told Nathan, "Somethin' on yer mind?"

"It's nothing," Nathan lied. His vision had adjusted enough that he could make out Foxy frowning.

"Don' seem like nothin'. Si' down an' tell Ol' Foxy what troubles ye," Foxy gestured to a folding chair that had been left there for years.

Nathan sighed and nodded, unfolding the chair and plopping it on the stage. He sat down across from Foxy, who sat on his chest. The pirate took a few moments to situate himself, including several attempts to cross his legs until it became apparent his joints couldn't accomplish it. He instead resigned to assuming what he hoped looked intelligent, with his arms folded and good hand under his chin, like he had seen in that doctor show back when he stayed with Mike.

"Now, wha' be tha mat'er?" he asked, leaning back slightly, "Is there a lass?" Nathan stared.

"What?"

"A girl, mate! Is i' abou' a girl?" Foxy pressed. Nathan looked at the fox incredulously.

"Wha-? _No!_" he protested.

"Le'mme guess. She don' love ya?" Foxy asked, leaning forwards slightly.

"No, Foxy, I-,"

"Ye don' love her? She don' know she loves ye? She's shoved off wit' another buccaneer?" Foxy continued.

"Foxy, this isn't about-,"

"_Are ye pregnant!?_" Foxy concluded, jumping off of the chest, pointing an accusatory hook in Nathan's direction. The mechanic shook his head feverishly.

"Foxy, _shut up!_" he shouted, "I'm worried because you could all _die!_"

Foxy froze, letting his hook fall limply to his side. He slowly sat back down on the chest.

"Oh," he said simply. Nathan nodded.

"Yeah, _oh_," Nathan agreed, "You need to stop watching daytime TV."

"Wha'… wha' do ye mean by die?" Foxy asked. Nathan took a breath.

"Well… 'die' is not the best word to use, but I'm worried your programming and memory will be destroyed or corrupted, and then we'd lose this sentience you've achieved. We could put things back in like your base A.I., but the experiences that forged your individual selves through your learning programs, that would all be lost. It'd be like starting over," Nathan explained.

"And wha's goin' ta do this? Can we stop it?"

"We can't stop the event, it's a solar storm or something, I know you don't know what that is, and I have no idea what it'll do to you guys. Just know that, if it does do the unthinkable and you're memories and programming are lost, we'll do what we can," Nathan said, putting a hand on Foxy's shoulder.

The pirate remained silent for a long time, mulling the news over. Nathan didn't speak either, and sat in the room, quiet except for the drone of the air conditioning and the faint sounds of activity from outside of the curtain.

"This be a migh' depressin', lad," Foxy said, breaking the silence, "Took tha wind out of me sails, i' did."

"Yeah…" Nathan agreed, rubbing the back of his head, "Not exactly the way I wanted to go about it, but I figured you guys should know, just in case. It could do nothing, I just don't know. I'm going to talk to the others, once their show ends. Talk to you soon, buddy."

Nathan got up, and Foxy escorted him as far as the curtains before holding them apart for the departing mechanic, and poked his snout out slightly to watch him enter the Backstage door.

"No' tha bes' a' deliverin' bad news…" Foxy muttered to himself, and went back into the depths of Pirate's Cove.

* * *

"Freddy? Bonnie? Chica? Can you guys talk to me for a second?" Nathan called out through the dark. A door leading to the Main Stage opened behind the curtain line to allow access to the materials, as well as provide a means of getting out of earshot of anyone in the audience.

"Nate?" Chica asked, sticking her head through the door before grinning, "Oh, hey. What's up?"

"A lot, actually. Can you get the others?" The chicken nodded.

"Yeah, sure," she replied, before turning her head around to face behind her and shouting, "Freddo, Bon, Nathan wants to talk to us!"

Heavy footsteps sounded as the three animatronics entered the cramped space, Bonnie still holding onto her guitar. She beamed at Nathan.

"Hi Nathan! It's so good to see you, how are you?" she asked, pulling him into a hug.

"I'm good, Bon. Hey Freddy," he greeted over Bonnie's shoulder.

"Nathaniel," he returned with a tip of his top hat.

"Let go, sweetheart," Nathan said, and Bonnie released him, stepping back to join the others.

"So, what's up?" Chica asked again. Nathan took another preemptive breath.

"There's something I need to tell you guys," Nathan said, "Sometime soon, I don't know when, there's going to be a solar storm, and there's a chance i-"

"A what?" Chica interrupted.

"Solar storm. Look, I'm not going to explain it, I barely have any idea," Nathan replied, "But what you need to know is that there's a chance that it could destroy your programming and memory."

Nathan let the matter hang, giving the animatronics time to process (quite literally) the news. Bonnie shrugged.

"That's fine, you can fix us, right?" she asked. Nathan shook his head.

"No. Well, I _can_, it's just that you won't be you, you know? Everything that makes up your personalities, your behavior, anything independent of programming will be permanently erased," Nathan explained, "In the worst case scenario." Freddy nodded grimly.

"I see… And there is nothing we can do to stop it?" he asked.

"Yeah. It only happens once like every hundred years or something crazy like that. We don't know anything about it."

"Hmm…" Freddy muttered, deep in thought, before imitating a sigh, "I suppose we'll just have to take it as it comes. If you aren't sure what the storm will do, then there's a chance it will be harmless, or at least correctable." Nathan nodded.

"Right. That's what we're counting on," he said. Suddenly a pre-recorded voice sounded from out in the restaurant.

"_Hey boys and girls! Are you ready for Freddy?_" it asked. The three robots and Nathan looked towards the stage. They had all heard that line a thousand times: it signaled the beginning of the next show. Freddy turned to face the others.

"We have to go. Don't worry about us, Nathan, we'll be fine, I'm sure of it," he said encouragingly, and led Bonnie and Chica onstage.

"I hope you're right," Nathan muttered.

* * *

That night, Mike arrived and found the animatronics standing together in a tight circle onstage.

"Hey guys, what's up?" he asked, setting his bag down on a table. Freddy looked up.

"We're discussing the possible outcome of this solar storm," Freddy replied, "It sounds like there's more of a chance it could be harmless."

"I'd bet on it," Chica said, seemingly nonplussed at the news of a possible permanent memory loss. Bonnie seemed much less sure.

"But what if it's not," she said, "What if we… die?" Mike held up a hand.

"You're not going to _die_," he corrected, "You can't, you're robots. If worst comes to worst, we'll find a way to fix you. Anything broken can be fixed."

"Aye, the lad's righ'," Foxy agreed, "Tha lo' of us sittin' here worryin' abou' it don' be makin' much o' a difference." Bonnie looked down.

"But still…" she said quietly. Chica put a hand on her shoulder.

"Tell you what," she said, "If you're right, and we all blow up, you can say 'I told you so.'" Bonnie chuckled slightly. Chica grinned in response. Freddy let out a small burst of static.

"Now that that's all settled, the janitor left quite a mess Backstage," he said, and lumbered off to correct whatever small discrepancy that had been left. Chica shook her head.

"There's probably a head in the wrong place or something," she said, and turned to Mike, "Want a pizza? I'm making some."

Mike's stomach growling provided the answer.

"That'd be great, I'm starved," Mike replied.

"What kind do you want?"

"Surprise me," Mike said, heading towards the Security Office to pick up the tablet. Bonnie followed him, while Foxy headed towards the windows out front to watch the outside.

"Do you really think everything will be okay?" Bonnie asked. Mike stopped.

"_Of course_," he said, "You know Nathan and I wouldn't let anything happen to you. C'mere." He wrapped his arms around Bonnie's torso, awkwardly hugging the large robot. Bonnie smiled and hugged back, earning a gasp as she squeezed the air out of Mike's lungs.

"Sorry!" she said, and loosened her grip. Mike gave her a few pats on the back.

"Everything's going to be fine, Bon. I promise," he said.

* * *

Three days later, news about the storm had fallen out of public opinion, some authorities even starting to suggest that it had been a false reading to begin with, and it soon stopped worrying Nathan, Mike, and the 'bots. As the night shift began at Freddy Fazbear's, it also began at the Galileo uplink located in the National Air and Space Administration's center in Texas. It served as the communications link to the Galileo Space Telescope, monitoring its orbit and findings.

Dr. Greenberg and his partner Dr. Cooper sat in the small makeshift lounge they had created, sipping coffee to help them stay awake. They weren't much more than a sort of night watch for the facility, making sure the satellite kept to its mission twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Readouts flashed left and right, offering up electronic interpretations of what the satellite's sensors captured, and pictures wired every fifteen minutes from the camera. It was currently programmed to alert the astronomers at any major fluctuation to base readings, which could indicate an astronomical event, or, more commonly, a system malfunction of any sort.

When the alert light flashed and a print out of whatever caused it started to be created, the two men didn't give it much thought as they began to go over it, assuming it was some kind of glitch or small malfunction they would have to correct. But nothing had malfunctioned.

After getting unusual (well, as unusual as a constantly fluctuating star can be) solar readings earlier in the week, Galileo had been left aimed at the Sun in order to see if anything more would come of it, and so far nothing had changed. Now, however…

Dr. Greenberg quickly pored over the data sheet as it was spat out of the printer. His eyes widened, and he immediately grabbed the emergency hotline, hearing it ring twice before it was picked up.

"Solar storm confirmed, get on the EAS, I'll fax you the approximate area of effect," he said, and hung up, swiveling over to the other instruments. Dr. Cooper looked on in shock.

"Jesus. How severe?" he asked. Greenberg continued to pore over the readouts.

"Can't tell, just know it's on its way," he replied, "Even the trajectory is a guess. Get to the brass, make sure we get a record of this."

"Right," Cooper replied, and picked up another landline. Greenberg grabbed a pencil and filled out notes on the readouts.

"This will be amazing. Scientifically speaking, of course."

* * *

Meanwhile, back at Freddy Fazbear's, Mike and the animatronics were clustered around a table that had all but one chair cleared out from it. A game of _Monopoly_ was set up, with piles of paper money laid out in front of each player and the portable radio set up a table away softly playing music. Mike stared at his ever dwindling supply of fake cash, beginning to understand the mistake in his decision to teach the computer-brained Freddy and the others the intricacies of the game. Chica rolled the dice.

"Alright, eight," she said immediately, slapping her piece (the iron) eight spaces. She landed on one of many of Freddy's properties. She frowned. "Jeez, Freddy, _again_?"

Freddy just smiled, his carefully organized (and large) stacks of brightly colored bills sitting in front of him. He held a hand out expectantly, gesturing with his fingers. Chica groaned and quickly calculated what she needed. Play then shifted to Foxy, who was the second poorest player in the game (the most behind being Mike), and he "sailed" his battleship piece over to the "bank," completely ignoring the dice. The fox's increasing failure to keep any of the properties he had bought frustrated him to no end, and he was prepared to enact his contingency plan. He covered the tray of money with his hook, staring hard at Mike, who was the "banker."

"I be plunderin' this here store of treasure," he said. Mike rolled his eyes.

"Foxy, you can't steal money from the bank," he explained. The point of Foxy's hook was suddenly held in front of his face.

"Like I be sayin' lad, I be takin' this," Foxy's voice had dropped dangerously low, as it frequently did when the pirate started to go into a fit. Mike stiffened, but Bonnie intervened.

"Come on Foxy, just because you're frustrated doesn't mean you need to cheat," she scolded, "Do you want me to roll for you?"

"No," Foxy grumbled, lowering his hook, and practically chucked the dice off the table. Ten.

"Nice roll," Mike said, hoping to curb the fox's temper. Foxy's eyes scanned the table, and he let out a small screech of frustration as he set his piece on the "Go to Jail" piece.

"Blasted game!" he shouted, slamming his piece onto the Jail space with such force the table creaked and shifted. "Now I be in tha brig!" Freddy glared in warning at the fox, before calmly gathering up the dice and rolling. Four, and doubles to boot. He picked up is top hat piece, sliding it over to Boardwalk.

"Ah, Boardwalk. I'd like to purchase it, Michael," he said, grabbing the necessary amount from his organized piles without looking down. Mike reluctantly handed him the card. "And that's a monopoly," Freddy announced. Foxy, Chica, and Mike groaned.

"_Another_ monopoly?" Mike whined, "Jeez, Freddo, you own half the board." Freddy shrugged.

"I just have a good plan," he replied. Foxy shook his head, walking away.

"I qui'," he said, "Figh' over me land." Bonnie followed him.

"Come on, Foxy, at least finish! Don't give up just because things aren't going your way!" she said. Foxy shook his head.

"No, lass, we've been playin' for quite a while, I just be gettin' tired of it," he replied, "I'm off to me Cove." Bonnie walked back to her spot.

"Suit yourself," Chica said, scooping up what remained of Foxy's money as he disappeared behind the purple curtains.

At this time, the music suddenly cut out, playing the instantly recognizable sound of something going wrong: the tones of the Emergency Alert System.

"_Brrrt! Brrrrt! Boooop! Booop!_" the radio blared, before a digital voice sounded, "_The following is a message from the National Aeronautics and Space Administration: a solar storm is expected to hit a majority of the western part of the United States in the coming hours. All citizens are advised to stay in their homes for the duration, as it could cause power outages in its area of effect. Emergency services could be impeded, and as a result the public is advised to lock their doors and windows to prevent unlawful entry. Businesses are instructed to lockdown as well. The severity and extent of the storm's effects cannot be determined at the present time, and authorities emphasize preparing for several days of blackouts. More information will be provided as soon as possible. Brrt, brrt, brrt!_"

Everyone at the table froze, eyes locked to the radio. Foxy had even heard the tones and stuck his head out to investigate. Mike got up and double-checked the locks to each lockable exit and window before sitting back down. An uneasy silence washed over the place for several minutes until Freddy broke it.

"Don't I roll again?" he asked, knowing the answer fully well but wanting to dissolve the elephant in the room. Mike just nodded. The bear gave an encouraging smile as he gathered up dice.

"We'll be fine, Michael, trust me. We've gone through worse things than a storm," he said, and rolled the dice straight off the table as a motor jerked. The game became interrupted as a definite energy seemed to pass through the air, and the lights in the restaurant flickered before eventually turning off. The familiar _schwooom_ of the building powering down sounded, followed by a distant series of dull clacks and buzzing.

Freddy and the others found themselves frozen, eyes flickering before turning off as well, leaving Mike in near-total darkness. He scrunched up in his chair, holding his breath in anticipation. Slowly, but surely, the eye flickering resumed, and slowly stopped, the robots fully reactivating. Mike sighed in relief.

"_SKREEE!_" Foxy suddenly shrieked, although with fear more than malice. Mike turned to him, unable to find his glowing eyes.

"Foxy! What's wrong?" Mike asked, terrified for his friend. Of all the things that could have been wrong, he hadn't expected the pirate's answer.

"It's _dark!_" he whimpered, his characteristic gruff pirate voice losing its accent and going up an octave.

"But are you okay?" Mike pressed, worried something had malfunctioned. He could hear the sound of servos moving rapidly. Foxy must be furiously shaking his head.

"No! I don't like the dark!" he whined. Two seconds after he said that, Mike saw Foxy's yellow eyes flicker and activate, blinking several times before focusing on Mike. They moved closer, and in three steps Foxy clung to Mike, head swiveling around rapidly.

"Is the dark gone?" he asked. Mike started gasping for air.

"Yes, Foxy, you'll be fine, now _let go!_" Mike wheezed. Foxy did so, looking around with what looked like nervousness, tapping his metallic good hand against the tip of his hook. The pirate looked down at it, and immediately began shaking his hooked hand about violently.

"_Eeek! _Get it off! Get it off!" he squealed. Mike ducked underneath a hook swipe, hearing a _shwip_ as it passed, before grabbing onto Foxy's other arm.

"Jesus, Foxy, calm down, it's just your hook!" Mike said. Foxy froze, looking at it in fear.

"_Get it off!_" he whined again, holding it to Mike and turning his head away, eyes closed. Mike stared at the fox at confusion.

"Are… are you serious? Foxy, you've always had your hook. What's gotten into you?" he asked. Foxy didn't seem to hear, opening one eye a crack.

"Is it off?" he asked, slowly looking back before crying out and looking away. "Get it off!" he whined again.

"Alright, alright, give me one second," Mike said, and began unscrewing the hook from its mount, exposing the metal plate it attached to at the end of Foxy's forearm. Mike held the hook up.

"It's off," he said, "Happy?" Foxy looked at his now hook-less stub and seemed to visibly relax.

"Thank you, uh… who are you?" Foxy asked, cocking his head to the side. Mike blinked.

"I'm Mike, remember? Mike Schmidt? Night guard?" Foxy's eyes widened in recognition, and he smiled.

"Oh yeah, that's right!" he said, "How could I forget. Sorry, I'm not myself."

_You got that right,_ Mike thought. It was then that Chica reactivated, seeming to shake her head slightly.

"Goodness," she said, "That was quite a shock. Mike, dear, are you alright?" Chica walked over to him and began giving him a once over, moving his arms and pinching and prodding. He squirmed under the inspection.

"Chica? What are you-?" Mike began. Chica held up a finger.

"Hush!" she scolded, and continued her examination, "No bumps or bruises, that's good. I'd say you're fit as a fiddle!"

Mike stared, watching Foxy look about nervously and Chica busy herself with smoothing out a tablecloth. _What is going on?_ Movement behind him made the guard turn, seeing Bonnie start to move.

"Bonnie, good, you're back on," Mike said, "Something weird's going on."

"Oh?" Bonnie asked, disinterested, "That's nice."

"Foxy and Chica are acting weird," Mike continued. Bonnie shrugged.

"So? They've always been freaks. Especially Foxy," she said. Mike's jaw hung open. Bonnie had never been so outwardly… _mean._ Thankfully, Foxy didn't seem to hear, and jumped a foot when Freddy suddenly activated and put a paw on his shoulder.

"Yipe!" Foxy yelped. Freddy laughed.

"Oh, boy, that was some birthday party, huh?" he said cheerfully, "Never had such a shock in all my life, ha ha!"

"Can someone _please_ tell me what's going on?" Mike asked. Chica looked at Mike concerned.

"What's wrong? Are you _sure_ you're okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine, it's you guys that aren't," Mike said, "You're all acting really strange."

Chica cocked her head, frowning. Bonnie just crossed her arms, emitted a burst of static, equivalent to a huff, and walked off down the hall, muttering. Foxy's eyes widened.

"Strange? _We're acting strange?_" Foxy asked, newly terrified, "Did something break? Are we malfunctioning?" Mike put his hands up to chest level.

"Foxy, relax, calm down," he said, "You guys aren't broken, just… quirky."

"_Ha!_" Bonnie scoffed from down the hall, "Uh-huh, _sure…_ quirky." Chica's eyes narrowed.

"Don't use that tone! You know better!" she scolded, shaking an outstretched index finger in Bonnie's general direction. Freddy walked up to Mike and slapped a paw on the guard's shoulder. He winced at the force of the impact.

"Say, chief, you don't mind giving me a run-down on what happened, do ya? I can't remember anything from the past, like, day," Freddy said, playing with his top hat. Mike blinked, unused to hearing such an informal voice come out of the polite and proper bear.

"I'd rather focus on getting the lights back on," Mike said, "I can barely see anything. If any of you could help, that'd be great."

"No," Bonnie said, walking back into the Dining Area, holding a magazine from the front desk. She climbed onto the Show Stage and sat down on the edge, opening the magazine to a random page. Foxy fidgeted.

"I don't know… Will there be any spiders? I don't like spiders…" he said. Mike put his face in his palm before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, Foxy, there won't be any spiders," he said.

"Ghosts?"

"No."

"Monsters?"

"Are you serious?" Mike asked, missing the crazy Foxy already, "Never mind, does anyone even _want_ to help?"

Mike scanned the room, squinting in the near-darkness. Bonnie didn't look up from her magazine, flipping pages forward and back pretending to read it. Freddy had long since become bored of the conversation and attempted the tablecloth pull trick on the nearest table, yanking it out from underneath the plates and hats that just hours before he had meticulously aligned. They all fell with a spectacular clatter, to which the bear simply shrugged and went to the next table to try again. Foxy was standing off to the side, eyes darting about as he tapped a metal forefinger against the plate his hook attached to, making a soft _clink-clink_, jumping slightly at Freddy's subsequent failures. Chica was looking around as well, and finally sighed in disappointment and stepped forward.

"I'll help you, dear," she said kindly with a warm smile, then turned to the others, "I can't believe you all. Freddy, stop making such a mess! Goodness…" Chica shook her head before following Mike into the maintenance room Backstage.

* * *

The maintenance room served as a focal point for all the workings of the restaurant, offering controls to the water main, natural gas, water heaters, air conditioning, heating, and most importantly, the circuit breakers. Despite having little background in electrics, Mike's best guess was that whatever the hell the solar storm did to the building had caused the breakers to trigger. He hoped so, anyway.

The way only got darker, and the guard lacked a flashlight (assuming it still worked anyway), so Chica soon took the lead, pointing out any obstacles that Mike couldn't see.

"Mop bucket on your right, Michael," she said. Mike stopped, then shook his head.

"Why do you use my full name?" he asked. Chica turned her head around to look at him.

"Oh, that's right, you like being called Mike. Sorry, sweetie," she said, and kept walking. Mike rubbed his arm awkwardly. Seeing Chica so compassionate and motherly was just… _odd._ At least the "sweetie" remark wasn't done in the romantic sense. That'd be even more bizarre.

The two of them soon entered the maintenance room. It was completely pitch-black, the only thing that could be made out were Chica's glowing eyes.

"What are we looking for?" she asked.

"A gray box mounted on the wall, with a large cable running through it," Mike said, straining to see. Chica's eyes swept the room, and disappeared as her back turned to face him. Heavy footsteps could be heard, and Chica turned back to Mike, eyes slightly further away.

"Found it," she said.

"Okay, open it up, there should be a set of switches inside," Mike said. A series of clunks was heard, and the squeak of hinges.

"Some of these switches are to the left, but most are to the right," Chica reported.

"Okay, flip the switches that are left to the right," Mike instructed. There were several louder clicks, and a humming started to grow from deep in the building. Slowly, sporadically, lights began activating throughout the restaurant, including one in Backstage. Mike sighed in relief, and walked back towards the Dining Area.

* * *

Every single table had its tablecloth pulled and its collection of party hats strewn across the floor. Some were flattened from being stepped on. Foxy had started picking up, slowly stooping down and grabbing the tablecloth to one of the ruined tables. Bonnie watched on, disinterested, until a small smirk-like smile appeared. She grabbed a nearby party hat, crumpled it into a ball, and chucked it at the fox.

"Foxy, look out, a bat!" she screamed as the projectile bounced off of the back of the pirate's head.

"_SKREEE!_" Foxy shrieked, and flailed his arms around, "Get if off, get it off, _get it off!_"

Bonnie started laughing evilly at her little joke.

"Bonnie!" Chica screeched, causing Mike to wince. The rabbit stopped laughing and looked over. Chica was fuming, hands on her hips. The chicken pointed to the floor.

"Come over here," she said, her tone made of steel, "_Now._"

Bonnie slowly got up and sauntered over. Foxy had finally stopped flailing and looked around in a circle, searching for what was thrown at him before discovering the crumpled hat. He looked at it with a hurt expression. Bonnie walked up to Chica and crossed her arms.

"What?" she asked, despite knowing exactly what the bird wanted. Chica crossed her arms as well.

"Apologize," she said.

"Hmm?"

"I saw you throw that hat at Foxy. Now go apologize," Chica ordered, pointing towards the fox.

"Why?"

"You very well know why," Chica replied, "Now go."

Bonnie let out a static representation of a huff and rolled her eyes, but walked up to Foxy. He eyed her cautiously.

"Sorry you're such a wimp," she said. Chica narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to speak, but Bonnie noticed, and hastily added, "I'm very sorry for scaring you, Foxy."

The apology lacked all empathy, but it seemed good enough for Foxy.

"I-it's fine. You got me good," he said, chuckling nervously.

It also seemed to appease Chica, who stopped glaring and lowered her arms to her side. Mike watched on awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

"I'm… gonna go make sure the phone works," he said, and turned on a heel, heading down the East Hall towards the Security Office. Along the way, he found his radio and the Monopoly board laying at the foot of the table they had been playing on. Dozens of houses, several hotels, and thousands of dollars of paper money were strewn around a three foot radius of the table. The victims of Freddy trying to pass the time. Speaking of which, where was he?

Mike walked through the open left security door and sat in the rolling chair, picking up the tablet off the desk. The heavy device took several long seconds to boot up, and showed the feed of the Show Stage, predictably deserted. He tapped his way through all of the cameras, finding Foxy staring with apprehension at Pirate's Cove, clutching at the purple curtain with his good hand. Bonnie had pulled herself onto several tables (the only surfaces strong enough to support the robot's weight) and again pretended to read the same magazine. Chica stared at the mess in the Dining Area with a shaking head and crossed arms. The audio only Kitchen camera finally revealed Freddy's location.

A loud series of clinks and clanks, accompanied by Freddy's creepy-by-nature laughter and signature jingle, which was sped up to a slightly higher tempo. Mike raised one eyebrow at the dark screen, and heard the unmistakable sound of a plate shattering, accompanied by a "Whoops!" The guard sighed, before a loud crash burst from the tablet's speakers, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. The sound's echo arrived down the halls a half-second later, lingering in the still air. "Whoops!"

* * *

Chica stormed towards the Kitchen as the sound of the crash faded, pushing open the doors with a frustrated frown. Freddy lay in the middle of a pile of pots, pans, and other cookware. He smiled up at Chica.

"Well, looks like my Tower of Pots didn't turn out so good, huh?" he asked cheerfully. Chica put her hands on her hips.

"Why do you always have to make a mess? You know how hard it is for us to clean up after you?" she asked. Freddy looked down sadly and stood up, imitating an expression of guilt by grabbing onto his right forearm with his left hand. "Honestly! Pick this up right now. _Nicely._"

Freddy nodded, still staring at the floor, and shuffled over to the mess of pots.

"Thank you," Chica said, turned on a heel, and walked back through the door. Bonnie looked over, eyes half closed, before returning to her magazine.

* * *

_Morons,_ the rabbit thought, turning a page idly. She really didn't care about what the magazine was about, Bonnie just wanted to get her point across that she had no interest in socializing with the others. Bonnie turned the page again, staring at it but not reading whatever was printed there.

What was Foxy's problem? For an animatronic that looked as fearsome as he did, why was he scared of everything? Bonnie flipped forward several pages.

And then there was Chica, the buzzkill. She never seemed to approve of anything Bonnie did. Couldn't sit on the tables (though clearly the rabbit had won that particular debate), couldn't bug Foxy, couldn't comment on anything. No, she had to adhere to the chicken's sickeningly sweet standards. Bonnie shook her head. It was ridiculous. Why couldn't she just be left alone? Bonnie turned another page, revealing a large ad for some sort of makeup. It had no meaning to the animatronic, but a part of her did recognize the rosiness of the cheeks, comparing them to the Toys. Remembering their cheerful nature made her frown even more, straining the wires in her jaw (especially since they weren't supposed to move in that direction).

_Everyone's always against me_, Bonnie thought bitterly, eyes whirring softly as they focused on the magazine in front of her for the first time. It was an ad, advertising a weight loss supplement, and had a large picture of a woman on a beach. It puzzled the rabbit, and she decided that, being metal and therefore unchanged in appearance since she was built, there was no need for any sort of diet. Whatever that was. Bonnie flipped several pages ahead as a shout from Pirate's Cove pulled her out of her thoughts.

"_Miiiike!_" Foxy called out. Bonnie shook her head.

_Morons._

* * *

"_Miiiike!_" Foxy called out again, back pushed all the way to the wall. The monster in front of him seemed angered by the shout, taking several more steps towards the cowering fox. He encountered it after opening his treasure chest, where the thing leaped out at him. The pirate had been lucky then, and the monster's lunge missed, but now it had cornered him.

"Mike?" Foxy asked the empty room around him. The guard was nowhere to be found. The monster inched still closer. A pathetic garbled sound sounded from his voice box, unable to produce the specific sound the situation warranted. Foxy had one last hope…

"_SKREEE!_"

* * *

"Come on, come on…" Mike muttered as he punched Nathan's number into the phone on his desk, and lifted the handset hopefully. A dial tone sounded, but was quickly interrupted by a chime, the busy signal. Made sense, no doubt phone lines had to be overwhelmed from other people that weren't so lucky when the storm hit. If the lines even functioned at all.

"_Miiike!_"

Mike rolled his eyes. Foxy had been calling for him for the past several minutes, but the guard was focused on more important matters. Like fixing them. Besides, now a coward or not, Foxy still had his usual physical characteristics, so he could at least handle himself.

"_SKREEE!_"

Mike winced at the piercing screech, and sighed, standing up and walking towards Pirate's Cove to try and figure out what the matter was.

The sight he saw was unexpected. Foxy had his back to the wall, eyes locked onto something on the floor in front of him, leaving it for only a second to recognize Mike's entrance.

"What?" Mike asked, "What's wrong?" Foxy pointed to the ground with his good hand.

"That!" he said. Mike tried to follow the indication the fox was giving him, and saw a spider scuttling about in circles on the threadbare carpet. He looked at Foxy.

"Seriously? That's a spider, you're a thousand times bigger than it. And you're metal, it can't even hurt you!" Mike said. Foxy didn't respond, instead letting out another small screech when the spider's random path happened to go closer to the fox. Mike sighed loudly, putting his face in his left palm before, without looking, stepping onto the spider.

"There," he said, lowering his hand, "It's dead. Happy?"

Foxy eyed the squished bug before rushing and giving Mike a hug, nearly knocking the wind out of him.

"Thank you, Mike!" he said. Mike pushed against the fox's affection.

"Foxy, stop, you're sharp!" the guard protested, trying to avoid getting cut by the exposed endoskeleton. He was immediately released.

"Sorry," Foxy said, tapping his hook-less stump nervously. Mike sighed at the display.

"It's fine, buddy. I've got some stuff to do, so just… relax, alright?"

"Okay."

Mike nodded and left Foxy standing in the middle of Pirate's Cove, noting how he still seemed to close in on himself. The guard shook his head. He would take one of Foxy's violent outbursts over _this_. What had happened? It clearly had to do with the storm that had screwed nearly everything up, with electronics being spared by how much metal was between it and whatever that storm spewed. He could barely make out the mess of static that now sounded from the radio, and the lights flickered for an unsettling moment. But Mike was jarred out of his thoughts as he ran straight into Bonnie. She looked down, clearly displeased.

"Hey, watch it!" she snapped. Mike blinked for a second, before frowning himself.

"Watch it yourself," he replied hotly, not enjoying this new Bonnie at all, "Why are you just standing around?" Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

"For your information, I was _walking_," she said, "Maybe if you weren't blind, you'd notice."

The rabbit strode off, purposefully pushing past Mike, leaving him staring after her. Not even Chica got that harsh. He shook his head, clearing his mind for a moment.

_I need to get a hold of Nathan, he can fix this,_ the guard thought, and walked quickly down the West Hall to the Security Office.

As he got closer, he could hear a clattering coming from inside, and a Freddy's drink cup (left in the trash by Mike earlier that day) rolled into the hall. It was then followed by the entire trash can, which spilled its few contents as it bounced slightly and rolled, smacking into the wall and coming to a halt. Mike approached carefully, fearing another possible break in, and peered through the window. It was Freddy.

The bear was engrossed with searching every square inch of the office, throwing things aside to keep exploring. Mike ran in when he grabbed the camera tablet.

"Freddy, what are you doing?" Mike asked, trying to wrench the tablet from the bear's grip. Freddy's face lit up at the guard's entrance.

"Mike, buddy, thank goodness you're here!" he said, and let go, sending the night watchman stumbling backwards holding the tablet, "Have you seen my top hat?"

Mike's brow arched in confusion, seeing the hat placed on the bear's head, as it had been for nearly a decade.

"You're… wearing it…" he replied, pointing. The bear's eyes looked up as far as they could, and a hand reached up to snatch the hat off by the brim. Freddy looked at it before chuckling.

"Silly me, I guess I forgot," he said, and replaced it again on his head, "Thanks!" Freddy walked off like his whole mad search hadn't happened, leaving the office in shambles. The desk had been pushed clear (i.e. everything on it except the monitors thrown to the floor), with the phone dangling by its landline connection, handset off the hook.

"_If you'd like to make a call, please hang up and try again_," the handset said dutifully. Mike hefted the device back onto the desk and did just that, dialing Nathan's number one more time, fingers crossed hopefully. He flicked on the tablet and spared a glance at the time as the phone attempted to make the connection.

5:12

* * *

"Son of a bitch," Nathan muttered to himself. The solar storm Emergency Alert had woken him, the harsh tones piercing through the normally quiet lull of the radio. Now, the mechanic searched deep within everything he knew to try and repair the damage it had done to his devices in his apartment. The only saving grace was that, having worked for Trout and receiving the necessary benefits, the little luxuries he did have were of quality. It still didn't mean that trying to fix the aforementioned radio was any less frustrating.

He was startled when the phone rang, Caller ID displaying "Freddy's." He answered it immediately.

"Mike, good, they fixed the phone lines," he said, "How are they?"

"_Well…" _Mike replied. Nathan groaned.

"I hate when you start a sentence with 'well'." Nathan sat down on his armchair.

"_They're fine, as in they're working,_" Mike reported, to which Nathan sighed with relief, "_But they're not acting right. It's like their whole personalities were switched around. Bonnie's being a jerkass, Chica's disturbingly motherly, Foxy's a coward, and Freddy's an absent-minded slob._"

"Interesting. Go on."

"_Well, can you come fix them?_"

"Sorry, Mike, no can do," Nathan replied, "Everything's still screwed up from the storm, including my truck. Its electrics are toasted, and I'm not quite that kind of mechanic."

"_I'm not any sort of mechanic, what am I going to do?_" Mike asked, desperation leaking into his voice. Nathan thought for a moment.

"You said they're acting normally, right?" he asked, "At least, almost normally."

"_Yeah_."

"No spasms, glitchy speech, sparks, anything like that?"

"_No…_"

"Memory problems?"

"_Little bit, right after they rebooted_. _Seems fixed now._"

"Then they'll be okay," Nathan told the guard, "You'd be surprised how hearty their systems are, except for water." Nathan smirked slightly at the memory.

"_So… what do I do?_" Mike asked.

"For now, nothing. They're in good shape, and we'll sort this out as soon as I can make it out there. You're probably not going to open, anyway," Nathan pointed out.

"_True. Arianna's still going to be pissed,_" Mike observed dryly.

"Assuming she can even get there. They're fine, Mike. I'll talk with you later," Nathan replied, and hung up. He stood up straight and stretched, earning a satisfying _crick-crack_ from his back. With the knowledge his four mechanical friends were, for the most part, unaffected. He sighed with relief, then collapsed back into the chair, fully reclining it and closing his eyes.

* * *

An hour later, just as the sun began peeking over the horizon, Arianna unlocked the front double doors and threw them open, bursting into the lobby with a clatter. Foxy, who had started to peek through his curtains, let out a startled yelp and scurried back into Pirate's Cove. Her first destination was the Security Office, where Mike sat fiddling with the camera tablet, which was having problems staying turned on. He looked up, noting her slightly disheveled look.

"Hey boss," he greeted, surprised, "You made it."

"I ran," she said simply, usual frown already well in place, "How are they?"

"They're-," Mike began, but was cut off by Chica, who appeared at the other door.

"Mike, dear, I saw someone rush over here, are you alright?" she asked, and looked at Arianna. The metal chicken did her best to express distaste with the pseudo-owner's appearance. She crossed over to her.

"Oh, Arianna, just _look_ at yourself," she scolded, hands busy straightening out the manager's rumpled suit, "You're in charge here, you should know better!"

Arianna stood stock-still, face frozen in confusion as the animatronic fussed over her, snapping back to reality as she felt a large hand drag its way through her hair. She batted it aside.

"What's going on, Schmidt?" she asked, pushing Chica away ("Well, I never!"). Mike set down the camera tablet.

"That whole solar thing did… _something_ to Chica and the others, and now their whole personalities are screwed up. I already called Nathan, but he's having trouble getting out here," Mike explained. Arianna nodded slowly in understanding.

"Alright. Do you think it'll affect the show?" she asked. Mike gave her a look.

"_The show?_ You're not seriously considering _opening_ right now, are you?" he asked incredulously.

"I am. We can't afford to miss any possible day of operation. Clearly the electrics in the building are still functional, and I doubt anything happened to our ovens. So get the animatronics ready, I'll try and call the other staff," Arianna said, grabbing the phone on the desk.

"But-,"

"No buts. We have to open. Who knows, maybe we'll get even more customers just because stuff works. Now round up the animatronics," Arianna ordered. Mike sighed.

"_Fine_," he said.

Fortunately, aside from Chica investigating Arianna's entrance, the programming directing the animatronics to return to the Show Stage by six was still in effect, and Freddy and Bonnie were standing in position behind it, the latter looking less than thrilled at the prospect.

"Another day of entertaining brats for hours. Wonderful," she said glumly.

"C'mon, Bonnie, don't be such a negative Nancy," Freddy teased, "It'll be fun!"

"I'd rather rip my own face off," Bonnie retorted, "Foxy's lucky he got decommissioned."

"I wouldn't let him hear you say that," Mike said, entering with Chica right behind, "Before you guys got all screwy, the shows meant the world to him." Bonnie rolled her eyes.

"You were right on one thing, though, you guys are performing today. Just do your thing, and we'll fix you as soon as possible," Mike added, before disappearing through the Backstage door.

The animatronics all shared a look.

"Fix what?" Chica asked. No one knew the answer.

* * *

Mike jogged across the restaurant to Pirate's Cove, taking a preparatory breath and gathering up his patience before stepping inside. Foxy was sitting on his chest, eyes dimmed indicating he was charging.

"Foxy?" Mike asked.

The robot fox's eyes brightened to their full intensity as he "awoke," letting out a yelp and falling off backwards with a crash. Mike sighed as the pirate carefully picked himself up.

"Y-yeah?" Foxy asked.

"You… gonna be okay? We're opening today, so you're not going to be scared by any of the people, are you?" Mike asked, concerned Foxy freaking out would blow their cover. The fox smiled weakly.

"I'll be fine, Mike," he said, "Don't worry about me."

"Alright… Good luck."

"Thanks."

"Uh-huh."

Mike passed again through the curtains, seeing Arianna walking across the Dining Hall. She flagged him down.

"Hey, Schmidt, want to make a bit extra this week?" she asked.

* * *

"Hello and welcome to Freddy Fazbear's Pizza," Mike greeted wearily.

Predictably, not many of their employees were able to make it to work that day. Forever short-staffed, any of that extra slack fell to Mike, in this case doubling as cashier and server.

"Thanks," the customer, a youngish man, replied, "I can't believe you guys are open, everywhere else is closed."

"I can't believe it either," Mike answered honestly, "Now, what can I get you?"

The customer seemed surprised at the question.

"Oh, uh…" he said, squinting up at the menu board, "A small pizza with… mushrooms and sausage."

"Alright," Mike said, "Anything else?"

"Just a drink"

"Okay, I'll put that in for you and bring it out when it's ready."

"Thanks," the man replied, and took the cup Mike offered him.

"Yup," Mike replied, and leaned onto the counter, resting his head on his hands.

* * *

The day progressed similarly from there, with the robots thankfully staying out of trouble. Chica pointed this out after their fourth show that day.

"I'm very proud of all of you. Especially you, Freddy, you haven't caused any disturbances," she praised. Bonnie shrugged.

"Why would there be? We've been doing this for years, it's not like it'll just start now," the rabbit pointed out.

"True. I do have to wonder how Foxy is doing, though. Poor dear is just so skittish," Chica said.

* * *

The fox in question wasn't having such a great time. He could hear more voices, and the restaurant had been having more customers today than they've had since the lawsuits. Each new voice elicited a little jump, and the footsteps passing in front of his curtain admittedly freaked them out, since he had no idea who was causing them and was too afraid to go check. Instead, he sat down on the far corner of the stage, trying to ignore what was upsetting him.

So busy was this forced ignorance, Foxy had yet to notice another spider had been scuttling about onstage. It wasn't as large as the one from last night, and therefore easily escaped notice as it climbed up Foxy, searching for a way upwards to spin its web. The arachnid's misguided journey to the ceiling led it up Foxy's back, going around holes in his suit as it gradually made its way onto the back of Foxy's head.

It was here, upon reaching the top, that the spider realized this wasn't a very good spot after all, and made the decent down the front of Foxy's face, across his lowered eye patch, and onto his snout. Then Foxy noticed.

* * *

Arianna stood at her office's window and watched the Dining Hall with a small bit of pride. The decision to remain open in the wake of the storm resulted in half of the seating to be filled. Granted, some of these people were still there following the wake of the tabloid article (which the _Investigator _retracted), but rumors had spread like wildfire. Nothing had gotten the magazine to retract any of its stories previously, and Freddy's succeeding caused even more conspiracy. There was a good chance that a casual stroll among the customers would result in her hearing conversations about ghosts, curses, killer robots, and secret government connections.

Arianna turned away and closed the blinds. Let the people think what they want to, as long as they paid for their food. She checked her watch, noticing that there were about fifteen minutes left until the band's next show. Maybe afterwards she could ask Mike about-.

"_SKREEEEEE!_"

* * *

As the echoes of the screech faded, every soul in the restaurant froze as dozens of pairs of eyes all snapped in the direction of Pirate's Cove. Pizza hovered in front of mouths left open, stunned motionless by the sound. A few had clutched their chests in fright, leaving them there as they watched the purple curtains sway slightly in the air conditioning, searching for the sounds source.

Mike had been halfway to a table carrying a pizza in each hand, and was the first to react. He quickly strode over to the table, delivered the food, and walked briskly towards Pirate's Cove. The guests watched with rapt attention, noting the urgency. Arianna moved next, quickly addressing the diners.

"Sorry about that folks, our fire alarm has gone a bit screwy since the storm. He should have it fixed soon," she lied smoothly, watching the wave of belief and understanding sweep across the patrons. The drone of conversation slowly grew back. Arianna sighed in relief, and walked back into her office.

* * *

Mike stormed into Pirate's Cove, seeing Foxy staring cross-eyed at something on the tip of his nose. The fox's mouth was still open, and he could faintly hear his characteristic screeching. He had turned his voice box down to the lowest possible volume after the first outburst. The guard dropped his angry posture and flicked the arachnid away, and the quiet screeching stopped.

"You okay?" he asked. Foxy nodded, mouth moving as if speaking, but nothing came out.

"You're voice box is still quieted," Mike pointed out. Foxy nodded again, and spook in full volume.

"Yeah, yeah. Thank you," Foxy said.

"Don't mention it," Mike replied, "Just keep your voice down, okay? I gotta get back to work."

* * *

That night, after Bill had arrived to start cleaning, everyone was surprised by Nathan stepping through the double doors, toolbox in hand. He ran into Mike and Arianna.

"Hey guys," the mechanic greeted, smiling, "I managed to get a lift. So, who should I start with?"

Mike and Arianna shared a look.

"_Foxy,_" they said simultaneously.

* * *

"Oh, I see what the problem is," Nathan announced. He and Mike were both clustered around Foxy, who had the access panel on the back of his head open. The fox had been scared of the cable and of Nathan, so it took quite a lot of convincing to sit still.

"What?" Mike asked. Nathan tapped a few keys on the programming computer.

"It looks like their personality matrix didn't load up properly after the storm knocked them out. Look at these values, they're all screwed up," Nathan explained. Mike looked at the screen, seeing what might as well have been Martian language.

"Uh… sure…" Mike said, "Whatever you say… Wait, I thought you were a mechanic." Nathan nodded.

"Yup. But for robots, so this kinda comes with the territory," he explained, before slapping a hand down on his leg and standing up, "Well, I know how to fix them."

"Great! How?"

"Well, the storm caused them to abruptly shut down, and the subsequent reboot resulted in the data not loading properly, leaving us with a scrambled matrix. So, the best solution would be to do a soft reset, cause the script to run again without all the solar stuff causing interference, and have things load properly," Nathan explained. Mike's head spun.

"I don't speak your Moon speak," he said, "What're are we going to do in English?" Nathan sighed.

"I'm going to turn him off and turn him back on again," he said, slowing down his speech and over-enunciating. And he did just that. It took several minutes for a controlled shutdown and startup to occur, but soon Foxy came online, eyes glowing in the darkness of the Cove. He turned his head around and looked at Mike and Nathan.

"Ahoy there, Mike, Nathan," he greeted, before looking down at his stump, eyes widening. "Wha' in blazes happened to me hook!?"

* * *

_**A/N: I'm back! It's certainly been a long, long while, and I do apologize. I was involved with a theatrical production at my local theater (I'm an actor!), and that ate up any and all of my free time. Show was a smashing success, so I feel accomplished. And since that's over, I'm back to being a writer again. Thanks for all your patience, and expect more to arrive much sooner than this took. On the positive side, I think this is one of my longest updates ever, so I hope it makes up for it a little bit. It's certainly good to be back!**_

_**-DeltaV "I'm not a writer, but I play one on TV"**_


	4. Fazbear Goes Hollywood

**Fazbear Goes Hollywood**

**Premise by: Jimmy-le-Sniper**

**Non-Canon (But Fun)**

"Mr. Harding, you've been unable to come up with any significant ideas for a film for the past year and a half. You haven't had a successful film in much longer. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid we're dropping you from our studio."

Film Director Wesley "Wes" Harding's eyes shot open, and he leaned forward so quickly his _USS Nimitz_ ball cap nearly flew off of his head.

"What!? But Mr. Stern, you can't-!" he protested. Peter Stern, the head of Matchlock Studios, held up a hand.

"I can, and I have to," Stern replied, bald head glistening slightly as sunlight shone in through the windows of his office, "Unless you have anything to present?"

"Well, no…"

"Then I rest my case," Stern said simply.

Harding leaned back and sunk in his chair in defeat, scratching at his beard before shoving both hands into the pockets of his brown leather jacket. Stern leaned back as well, sighing as he straightened his tie and drummed his fingers on his desk. A sad silence hung until Stern sighed again. He looked up at Harding.

"One week," he said, holding up his right index finger in representation of the value. Harding looked up.

"What?" he asked.

"One week, Wes," Stern repeated, "One week to come up with an idea for a film that'll make our executives happy. You'll present next Thursday at our annual meeting." Harding shot up from his seat, grinning ear to ear. He grabbed Stern's hand and forcefully shook it.

"You got it. In one week, I'll have the best idea that you've ever seen!" he said. Stern chuckled.

"I'm sure you will," he said, "But don't disappoint us."

"I won't!" Harding said, and strode out from Stern's office.

The instant he stepped foot into the hall, his expression fell. How was he supposed to come up for an idea for a good movie in just one week? He pulled out his cell phone, holding down a button for speed dial. It rang only once before it was answered.

"Debra, round up the usual suspects, we need ideas," he ordered.

* * *

Mike woke up at around noon, having the weekend off from his day job. This allowed him precious sleep in order to function as night guard at the most unique pizza joint this side of the Mississippi. Well, one of two. He stretched, scratched himself, and stumbled into the bathroom, still not fully awake. The shock of the water in the shower brought his mind up to speed, and soon he was dressed in a casual, if slightly rumpled, gray collared shirt and blue jeans. Mike's stomach growled, reminding him that he slept through breakfast, and he ambled into the kitchen.

Pulling open the fridge revealed a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza delivery box, inside of which were the leftover slices of Chica's answer to boredom from the previous night. A quick stint in the microwave later, and the greasy smell of reheated pizza swept through his apartment.

_Much as she hates it, Chica being bored does have its perks,_ Mike mused as he took another bite of pizza. He flipped on the television, finding the set still tuned to the Children's Channel, a remnant of Foxy's residency. Mike shrugged and kept watching, finding the simple plots and cheap humor rather charming. Soon the supply of pizza ran out, and the guard figured it was time to get up and do _something_.

He turned the television off, cleaned up the pizza box, found his wallet and keys, and stepped out into the hall. Immediately he could make out his neighbor Lindsay sitting in front of her door, chin resting on her hand as if waiting for a bus. She looked up.

"Hi Mr. Schmidt," she greeted.

"Hey Lindsay," Mike returned, "What are you doing in the hall?"

"Waiting for Foxy," she replied.

"Still?"

"He might come back. He promised," she said matter-of-factly.

Mike scratched his head awkwardly. Promise or not, Foxy had returned to the pizzeria, and there wasn't any way for him to return that wouldn't draw a lot of flak from Arianna. It seemed the only way to get the two together would be to bring Lindsay to him, but since Pirate's Cove was closed… _It'd be the perfect place._ Mike lit up at the realization.

After scaring the slimy editor of the _National Investigator_ Arianna had allowed the animatronics to have the lockdown program deleted, effectively giving them their "Free Roam" mode back. Which meant that Foxy wouldn't be stuck in standby during the day. And with Pirate's Cove essentially being left to rot, no one would be the wiser if he were to wander around inside. Or have a guest. Mike knelt down to Lindsay's level.

"Foxy went home, and he can't come visit you," he said. Lindsay visibly deflated, but nodded in a sort of solemn acceptance, as if it was as she thought. Mike smiled. "But you can go visit him!" Lindsay's eyes widened.

"I can?" she asked.

"Well, that depends, is your father home?" Lindsay nodded furiously, and dashed back inside.

"Dad? Mr. Schmidt wants to tell you something," she said, Mike able to hear through the open door.

A few moments later and a sleepy looking man in a robe walked up to the door. Lindsay's father Ian. He worked as a construction foreman, typically pulling long hours, and this was likely his only day off. This background of working with his hands left him in relatively good shape, although he was only in his early thirties. Despite the gruff profession, he was a kind man, rather soft-spoken, and one of the first neighbors to greet and befriend Mike when he moved here. It made the guard regret being unable to socialize with him more. He nodded at Mike's presence.

"Howdy, Mike," he said, yawning slightly.

"Hey, Ian. Sorry I woke you," Mike apologized. Ian waved his hand dismissively.

"I wasn't asleep, right honey?" he replied, directing the question at Lindsay.

"You were snoring," she said honestly. He laughed.

"I guess I was. Go and play, sweety, we'll finish up here," Lindsay left obediently, and Ian looked back at Mike. "What can I do you for?" he asked.

"Well, I noticed that Lindsay seemed kind of sad," Mike began. Ian nodded.

"Yeah, she's been kind of down. I'm working this site downtown, and it's really gone overtime. I kind of understand, I'm barely home and sleep when I am," he said, his tone melancholic.

"Do you mind if I take her to Freddy Fazbear's? Try and cheer her up?"

Ian paused, brow furrowed and frowning slightly. "I'm not so sure about that place. Lot of rumors, you know?" Mike understood.

"Well, you can trust me," he said.

"No, no, I trust _you_, you've given me no reason to not to. It's just… with all the rumors, I just don't want my little girl exposed to any of that," he explained.

"Well, I… do sort of work there," Mike admitted. He had neglected telling his neighbors due to these same rumors. Ian's eyes widened in surprise.

"You do? As what?" he asked, curious.

"I'm their night guard. I know the ins and outs of that place, and all the staff. I can assure you, she'll be in good company," Mike replied.

Ian thought about it for a long while, before finally nodding.

"Alright, let me go get dressed," he said.

"Oh, no, I don't want to bother you-," Mike began.

"It's no trouble. I need to spend more time with her anyway. If you think Freddy's will help her feel better, then that's what we'll do," Ian said finitely. Mike nodded.

"Um, okay, so meet you downstairs?" he asked.

"Yeah, give me about ten minutes, we'll be right down," Ian replied, and closed the door.

* * *

Mike stood in the hall, rubbing the back of his neck. While he totally understood not wanting to just leave his daughter with a neighbor to go to the infamous restaurant, it did complicate things. It didn't take much imagination to realize that Ian would definitely not be onboard with letting Lindsay visit Foxy, especially if he knew about the Bite. Mike might know that the pirate was (mostly) harmless, but the robot's startling appearance didn't necessarily leave good first impressions.

_Why did they make his teeth so damn sharp?_ Mike asked himself, and began planning on how to get the two together.

Several minutes later, and Ian and Lindsay joined Mike in the lobby. Ian had gone from a robe to a t-shirt from a marathon that occurred a few years ago and jeans. He yawned, quickly stifled it, and nodded to Mike.

"Alright, let's go," he said, "We'll take my truck."

The three climbed into the cab of Ian's black pickup, Mike moving some blueprints to the side as he sat in the back. Lindsay apparently got shotgun priority.

"Sorry about the mess," Ian said.

"Don't worry about it. Take a left here," he said, pointing. Ian nodded, and soon the slightly faded façade of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza could be made out in the distance. Its logo sported cartoon depictions of Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica, having been changed out after Foxy's "retiring." Several other cars were in the parking lot, the average turnout these days after the tabloid article ran.

"Not a lot of cars here…" Ian said, "Isn't it Saturday?"

"Believe or not, this is prime time," Mike replied, "Place is just barely hanging on."

Ian didn't reply, but nodded in understanding. He eased his truck into a space close to the entrance and shut off the engine. Lindsay, who had been bouncing in her seat, burst out of the passenger side, racing towards the double doors.

"Hang on a second!" Mike called, he and Ian trying to catch up, taking only a second to ensure the truck was locked. Ian laughed.

Just inside, the two found Lindsay looking into the space with a childlike wonder. The décor, while still attempting to appeal to kids, and _not_ aged well. Paint was faded, posters drooped, tiles were cracked, wires hung from the ceiling in distant corners, the air conditioning rattled, and the greasy smell of pizza permeated the air around them. Yep, definitely Freddy Fazbear's alright. Ian approached the weary-looking hostess.

"Hey there," he greeted, "Three?"

The hostess gestured to the mostly-empty Dining Area behind her.

"Anywhere you like. Show's in fifteen minutes," she said hollowly.

"Hey Joan," Mike greeted. Joan eyed him warily as he walked past. There was plenty of stigma surrounding the night guard position, and Joan had worked there for years. Mike cleared his through awkwardly and directed the group to a table far, far away from the Pirate's Cove entrance. Mike and Lindsay sat down while Ian remained standing.

"Why don't you go and play, Linds?" he suggested, "Just stay where Mike or I can see you."

"Sure!" she agreed readily, and quickly left to seek out whatever entertainment could be had.

"Why don't I go with her?" Mike asked, standing up himself. Ian shot him a look.

"Good luck keeping up," he said simply, and walked away to order pizza. Mike met the gaze of one of the cooks through the ordering window. He blinked, still impressed Mike was still around.

"_Other pizza_," he mouthed. The cook frowned for a second, before suddenly widening his eyes and nodding, holding up his hands in an "okay" symbol. Mike smiled.

_Good. We'll get one of Chica's_, he thought, _Depending on what he orders_.

* * *

"Huh," Lindsay said to herself. There just wasn't much to do in the restaurant, but something about the place suggested this wasn't always the case. A large empty space sat off to one side, clearly meant for something, but the lack of attention it received indicated it had served its purpose long ago. The curtains on the stage were closed, ruling out that option, so the only thing left was to explore.

The most interesting thing was another set of curtains, situated near the mouth of a long hallway that lead (though Lindsay didn't know) to the Security Office. They were purple, sporting a pattern of stars, and a faded sign sat out in front of it. Lindsay approached it.

"_Sorry! Out of Order!"_ proclaimed the sign. Lindsay ignored it, leaning past it. The backside of the sign had the words "_It's Me_" scratched into the metal. That was slightly unnerving. What could be in here? Lindsay parted the curtains further to stare into almost total darkness. A rustling sounded from deeper in the room, and Lindsay froze, eyes searching for the source. Heavy, clanking footsteps sounded, growing closer and closer, heading towards the terrified girl. Glowing eyes flickered on, and Lindsay's breathing became more rapid, unable to make a sound until the being walked into the sliver of light that shone through the part of the curtain, illuminating a large red figure and a sharp metal hook.

"Foxy!" Lindsay exclaimed, fear melting away.

"Lindsay!" Foxy cheered right back, and pulled her into the Cove, curtains shutting behind her, "It's been ages! How are ye, lass?"

"Fine," she replied, looking around as her eyes adjusted, "Where are we?"

"Pirate's Cove," Foxy replied, "Me home. I'll get tha lamps lit. Blasted things…"

A series of clangs and crashes, accompanied by Foxy's aggravated grumbling, sounded from the far end of the room, until a loud _click_ and buzzing sounded. The few functional lights in Pirate's Cove began to warm up and brighten, and Lindsay could take in her surroundings.

Foxy stood at the far corner, watching her look around with a sort of sheepish stance, twisting his hook anxiously. To her immediate left sat a small stage, barren except for remnants of what looked like a pirate ship set, and a large treasure chest, which lay open with a few objects scattered about. The backdrop had long been removed, showing the black painted wall to which hundreds of tally marks had been scratched into its surface, arranged in perfect rows. Lindsay walked over to it, and Foxy fidgeted.

"If I knew ye'd be visitin', I would'a cleaned up a bi'…" he said, hurrying over and quickly tossing all the strewn objects into the chest, shutting it with a _clunk_. He looked up to see Lindsay still looking at the back wall, running her fingers over a set of tally marks.

"Why are you stuck back here?" she asked, tracing the marks.

"I be… retired," Foxy said, "Bu' tha' doesn' ma'ter, wha' do ye wan' ta do?"

"Why were you retired?" Lindsay asked, exaggerating the syllables in a copy of Foxy's accent.

"Er… I… It be a long story, lass, ye don' wan' ta hear abou' it," Foxy said, dismissing it with a wave of his hook, "Bu' I do have a story that ye _would_. Care ta hear it?" Lindsay whirled around, all thoughts of Foxy's "retirement" swept away in the excitement of the possibility of one of Foxy's tales.

"Yes, please!" Lindsay said. Foxy smiled and carefully sat down on his chest, "feeling" the current from the coils underneath the stage start to provide him with extra power. Lindsay sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the pirate, eyes wide in anticipation.

Foxy imitated clearing his throat, a grumbled mess of static squawking from his voice box.

"It was a calm nigh' ou' on tha Caribbean. Tha moon was full, illuminating tha sails o' tha _Red Fox_…" Foxy began, Lindsay listening with rapt attention.

* * *

Wesley Harding groaned in despair and flopped his head face-first onto the large black conference table. He had gathered several of his friends in the film industry, a collection of writers, producers, directors, and actors to form a sort of "think tank" in order to brainstorm for his next project. It hadn't amounted to much. Heather Locklear, Harding's main producer, drummed her fingers on the table-top.

"How about a romance story, set in the middle of France during World War Two?" she asked.

"We tried that, remember? _Normandy_ beat us to the punch," Wesley pointed out, voice muffled from his position on the table. Joey Patron, a screenwriter, suddenly lit up.

"What about superhero movies?" he asked.

"I've done three, all failures."

"Westerns?" another writer offered.

"Old hack." Wes replied, waving his hand dismissively.

"Noir?"

"Sci-Fi?"

"Romantic Comedy?"

"What about a movie about transforming robo-?"

"_No!_" Wesley roared, jumping to his feet and pounding on the table, "I've made all sorts of that garbage in the past. The execs expect that from me. We need to think differently, do something I've never done before."

Maria Freud, a fellow director, leaned back more in her chair.

"What about horror?" she asked. Wesley looked at her, surprised.

"Horror?"

"Yup," Maria leaned forward, "The genre's gaining traction with audiences, they're cheap, and it doesn't even have to be a good plot for people to go see it. It just has to be different. Oh, and based on a true story, if possible."

Wesley mulled the idea over, scratching his beard.

"Horror… Yes… But about what?" he said. Maria reached into her lap and grabbed a copy of the _National Investigator_. She tossed it across the table. It landed with a _slap_ in front of Wes, showing the cover and displaying the headline _Secret Killer Robots at Kids' Restaurant?_

Almost immediately, the cogs in Wesley's mind began to turn. He quickly flipped to the article, muttering the words as he read them. The others in the room watched him expectantly. The cogs span faster, already visualizing how to film it, planning out special effects, story. Wesley looked up.

"This is perfect! I need to find a phone," he said, and dashed out of the room. One of the other people in the room turned to Maria.

"You've been saving that this entire meeting, haven't you?" he asked. Maria simply shrugged.

* * *

Several days later, Wesley strode confidently through the hallway towards the conference room of Matchlock Studios. It was time to present his pitch for his next movie. And he was five minutes late. He stopped outside the door and peeked into the window. Several executives were seated around the large mahogany table, with Mr. Stern at the head. On its surface were piles of paper, glasses of water, pencils, pens, and unused reading glasses. They were all deep in discussion, until one of them looked at his watch.

"It's been eight minutes, Peter, where the hell is Harding!?" he roared.

Wesley threw open the door dramatically, the blast of air accompanying the door's travel knocking the closest stacks of paper askew. Stern looked up, unimpressed.

"Nice entrance," he commented dryly, "What do you have for us?" Wesley took a preparatory breath, pausing for dramatic effect. One of the executives coughed.

"Picture this," Wesley began, moving his hands to form a frame, "A beloved children's restaurant, like that mouse place with the gross ball pit covered in shi-."

Stern glared a warning, and Harding cut his swear off before moivng forward.

"The main feature? Animatronic animals. But not just normal ones, oh no, these ones are _smart._ They're chock full of techno-magic-sciency… stuff, and can think far beyond their programming. This makes them wonderful performers, but also harbors a dark secret: _Evil!_"

It was here Wesley paused for dramatic effect, but there was little reaction. He pressed on.

"This amazing technology makes them perfect conduits for the supernatural, and unknown to the patrons of this delightful pizzeria, the robots become possessed! Possessed by something… sinister… something… demonic, and they become much more dangerous. At first, the spirits have little control, and are forced to go through the same routines the robots normally do, unable to counter the programming. So they have to wait for a time when they can exert total and complete control over their robotic… uh… vessels, yes.

"When, you ask? At night, when the robots roam the empty restaurant, except for one person: the night guard. Many are killed in the line of duty as the robots attack them, and the company hushes up any possible legal action, leaving poor ignorant people to take on the deadly job without knowing what really waits for them in those horrible halls. It is here we meet our hero, Jack Hudson, who takes this job. He survives his first night, and goes on a week-long journey to find out the awful truth behind the robots," Wesley finished his pitch with a bow, "So? Whaddya think?"

One executive raised his hand.

"So, this demon robot tale, this is a horror movie? That's very unlike you, Mr. Harding," he said. Wesley nodded.

"Yes sir, I thought I try something new, something fresh!" he said. Another raised his hand.

"Isn't that what people think what happened at the one pizza place? Made it into the tabloids, I believe. What was that place called… 'Felix's? Fonzie's? Frank's…?"

"Freddy's," Wesley corrected, "Yes, yes, it's about the rumors of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

The executives all began muttering to each other. Stern looked confused.

"I'm not sure I understand. Why?" he asked.

"Because it's interesting, people are thinking about it, and audiences love that 'inspired by true events' stuff," Wesley replied.

"But these events can't possibly be true," Stern countered.

"That's not the point, sir. I think this'll make a great film, I'm sure of it!" Wesley said earnestly.

Stern and the executives started a quiet discussion as Wesley stood awkwardly, picking at his fingernails. Finally, Stern cleared his throat.

"Alright, Harding. You're approved. Good luck," he said. Wesley let out a happy whoop.

"Thank you sir, you won't regret this!" the director said, and quickly ran out of the conference room.

* * *

**One Month Later**

Arianna looked around the Security Office, studying the several drawings that had been tacked onto the corkboard mounted on the wall. These, according to Mike, had been done by Bonnie. One in particular caught her attention.

It was a portrait of a single person, and was rather blobish, but the long red hair confirmed it was supposed to be a woman. The drawing was dressed in a crude depiction of a business suit, and it had a large, exaggerated frown on its face. Arianna grabbed it and studied it further. Red hair? Suit? Frown? The manager caught her reflection in the window. Red hair, suit, and a frown. Yep, that was a picture of her. Arianna smirked and re-hung it on the corkboard as the telephone in Mike's office began to ring. Arianna answered it, as that phone received the same calls the one in her office did.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, where fun and fantasy come to life, Arianna speaking," she said, a professional formality in her voice.

"_Yes, hello, I was wondering if I could speak to the owner_," the caller, a male, asked.

"Speaking," Arianna replied. She was the closest thing the place had at this point.

"_Ah, wonderful! I'm Tim Barnes, representing Mr. Wesley Harding of Matchlock Films. We were very interested in making a film based around the legends surrounding Freddy Fazbear's,_" the man said. Arianna made a face.

"I'm sorry, but we don't want any bad-," she began.

"_We'll treat the business with respect, and it will be a work of fiction, of course,_" Tim replied smoothly.

"That may be, but we're struggling enough as it is. I don't want people thinking about those rumors any more than they already do," Arianna stressed. Tim wasn't fazed.

"_And we'll be paying brand royalties, use of the space for on-location filming, as well as compensation for lost revenue, of course,_" he said.

Arianna paused.

"How much?"

* * *

The phone in Mike's apartment rang, rousing the guard from his slumber. He sleepily walked into his kitchen and picked up the receiver, eyes half closed.

"Hello?" he asked, yawning.

"_Hey Schmidt,_" It was Arianna.

"Oh, hey boss," Mike replied, yawning once more, "What's up? Something wrong?"

"_No, it could actually be good for us. How familiar are you with movies?_"

Mike was puzzled.

"I dunno… I like 'em as much as the next guy. Why?"

"_Come to the pizzeria, I'll explain there._"

* * *

Mike walked through the familiar double-doors into the pizzeria's lobby. Arianna was waiting for him, leaning against the hostess podium, arms crossed. As soon as he walked in, she turned and waved for him to follow.

"We'll talk in my office," she said.

A few minutes later found the two of them in just that place, Arianna seated behind her desk and Mike in one of the two chairs placed in front, wearing a confused expression.

"What's up?" he asked. Arianna opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a large stack of paper and pushed it across the desktop.

"This is what's up," she said, and folded her hands in front of her.

Mike picked up the stack, reading the top sheet.

"_Five Nights at Freddy's_?" Mike asked, and flicked through several pages, "Is this a _script_?"

"Yup," came Arianna's blunt reply, "Title needs a little work, but you know how that stuff goes."

"Why the hell do we have this?" Mike asked.

"Isn't it obvious, Schmidt? They're making a movie about this place," she said, crossing her arms.

Mike's eyes narrowed as he looked up from the script.

"What part of this place, exactly?" he asked. Arianna blinked.

"The legends, myths, that sort of thing," she said.

Mike frowned.

"You mean the stuff about ghosts and killer robots?"

"Yes."

"But those aren't true!"

"Technically, we _do_ have killer robots," Arianna pointed out. Mike spluttered, and slammed the script down onto the table.

"That's not the point! Why would you accept to make a _horror_ movie when _we're still in business?_" he asked. "Why would you cater to the exact same bullshit that you made them," Mike gestured to the Show Stage, "Go through all that trouble for? Didn't they fake _my murder_ in order to get what you needed to pull that article? Why now?"

Arianna opened her mouth to speak, but Mike cut her off.

"Aren't the animatronics' reputations damaged enough? Isn't this place's? Why would you risk anymore bad publicity?"

Arianna sat back, watching as Mike gave her a bewildered stare.

"You done?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow. Mike frowned, but nodded.

"Good. I'll tell you exactly why: _we're getting paid_. How long do you think we can keep going in the state we're in, huh? Go ahead, guess," she asked, but didn't wait for an answer before pressing on.

"I'll tell you how long. _Two. Months._ Attendance is at an all-time low, and we can't keep going at this rate," Arianna explained, "Plus, this movie will get people talking, and that's all we need."

"But-," Mike began, before Arianna held up a hand.

"No buts, Schmidt," she said, "We take what we can get. The film crew is coming over this weekend to do some scouting and setup. I need you here." Mike sighed, and nodded.

"Okay, what time?"

* * *

"What's a movie?" Chica asked. She and Bonnie were in the Kitchen, eyes glowing in the near-darkness. The two of them had overheard Mike talking about it earlier that night.

She had certainly heard the word many times before, as it seemed to be a topic in many a guest's conversation. But memories of these conversations didn't reveal much information into what a movie actually _was._ But they did sound exciting!

"I'm not sure," Bonnie replied, "I've heard Guests talking about them, but I don't know for sure what they are."

"Yeah, same."

"I'm gonna go ask Mike," Bonnie announced, and pushed open the door to the Kitchen, waving at Freddy as the bear stood onstage surveying the restaurant. He nodded, looked out at the restaurant a bit more, then headed to Pirate's Cove to check in on Foxy. Bonnie walked down the West Hall and poked her head through the doorway to the Office, where Mike sat in the roller chair, dozing.

"Hi Mike!" she greeted with a smile. Mike started, and looked up at Bonnie.

"Oh, hey Bon," he said, yawning before smiling as well, "What's up?"

"What's a movie?" Bonnie asked. Mike's smile faulted.

"You overheard us, huh?"

The rabbit nodded.

"Well… it's kind of like a moving picture. Actually, you know how we can see stuff on the camera tablet?" Again, Bonnie nodded, "Just like that, but it's a recording."

"Oh, I get it," Bonnie said, "So what does that have to do with us?"

"I might as well explain to all of you. Meet me in the Dining Area, just like usual," Mike said, and stood up.

The two walked down the East Hall, Bonnie looking around happily. Freddy hadn't moved, and stepped down from the stage once Mike entered with Bonnie.

"Group meeting!" Bonnie called out, excited at the prospect. Chica ambled out of the Kitchen a moment later, and after a significantly longer pause, Foxy joined them, the clanking of his suit-less feet entering before the fox. Mike leaned against a nearby table as the animatronics stood in front of him in a semi-circle.

"What's up?" Chica asked.

"Aye, wha' made ya assemble tha crew?" Foxy agreed.

"Well… Things are gonna be a bit… weird for the next while or so," Mike began.

"Weird? How so?" Freddy asked.

"Does this have to do with the movie?" Bonnie supplied. Mike nodded.

"Wha' is a 'movie,' exac'ly?" Foxy asked. Mike quickly explained.

"…But that doesn't matter. Okay, here's what I know. Apparently this one director showed interest in making a movie about this place. What kind, I'm not sure," Mike fibbed, "Arianna wants you guys to keep a low profile while they scout the place this weekend. She started on about disabling your free roam-," Mike hesitated as he saw the robots' eyes narrow or widen (in Bonnie's case) at the prospect, "But I said that you were smart enough to know better. I wasn't even going to originally tell you, since we still have no idea if they'll even use us. Any questions?"

Mike looked around. Freddy and the others didn't move, the whirring indicating they were literally processing the information. One by one, they shook their heads. Mike was surprised.

"Really? Nothing?" he asked. The animatronics all nodded in unison. "You're sure?"

"Like you said, you're not even sure if it'll lead anywhere," Bonnie replied, and quickly the topic seemed forgotten when she suggested, "So do you want to play hide-and-seek?"

* * *

That Saturday Mike arrived at Freddy's a half-hour after it opened and sat in the Security Office waiting for the studio people to arrive. The pizzeria itself, not wanting to lose a second of potential customers, opened like normal. Saturday saw the highest number of attendees, and the restaurant could not afford to miss one, despite the massive amount of potential income on the horizon.

Mike, out of habit, turned on the tablet and flicked through the security cameras. It was a much different feeling during the day, as the place was no longer lit by sporadically placed lights. The halls that looked so foreboding now held a happier shine, but the general fading didn't increase its innocence. Despite the turnaround, the building did hold the feeling of a place that had witnessed death, and that shadow still lingered, refusing to go away no matter what its occupants did to rectify it. Mike sighed, again upset over Arianna's decision to allow the studio the rights to the restaurant. The guard stopped at the camera positioned in the corner of the Show Stage, seeing Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica brightly illuminated by stage lights, performing their first show of the day.

The camera (thankfully) didn't have an audio uplink, so the cringe-worthy cheesiness of the song was reduced to what carried down the hallway. The trio onstage did seem to notice they were being watched by more than the guests eating in the Dining Area, and snuck aside glances into the camera under the guise of jerky movement. Mike smiled before checking Pirate's Cove. The curtains were firmly shut, the purple banners shifting softly in the draft of the building's air conditioning. It was the one place besides the Backstage that still unnerved him. He had been in the room before, but the sheer emptiness of it was still unsettling.

The building thoroughly checked, Mike stood up, stretched, and wandered down the East Hall, leaning against the back wall of the Dining Area as he waited for the studio's scouts. The music from the speakers died down as Freddy and the others said their usual goodbyes and the curtain closed. The few children present gave scattered applause, but suddenly someone stood up from a seat and whooped, giving the robots a standing ovation.

"That was remarkable! Brilliant! Fantastic!" the man whooped, bearded face upturned in a massive grin. Two people, a man and a woman, both rolled their eyes and went back to taking notes. The standing man looked down, "Be sure to find whoever did their voice-work, so the singing matches."

"Of course, Mr. Harding," the man replied, writing that fact down.

Arianna, who had stuck her head out of her office at the man's whooping, suddenly dashed across the Dining Area to his table, stopping short to smooth out her clothes and run a hand through her hair. She cleared her throat.

"Wesley Harding, I presume?" she asked sweetly. The man looked up, smiled, and then stood up.

"Yes, of course!" he said, and shook her hand, "Are you Arianna, the lady Tim here talked to?"

Arianna nodded.

"Wonderful! I have quite a few questions, is there somewhere we can talk?" Harding asked.

"My office is just over there," Arianna replied, pointing.

"Excellent! Shall we?" Harding hinted at his companions, who quickly gathered their notes and stood up.

The group followed Arianna into her office, gathering up Mike along the way.

"This is Mike Schmidt, our night guard," Arianna introduced.

"Hi," Mike greeted politely.

"Hello!" Harding returned pleasantly, shaking his hand. Soon Arianna and Harding were seated, as Mike and Harding's assistants stood behind their respective employers. Harding looked around at the décor with a content smile, before facing Arianna.

"Thank you for allowing me this opportunity. Normally I'd just send these two to gather all the details, but I'm so excited for this picture I just had to see it myself," he said, as his assistants looked none too pleased he had tagged along, "Now, looking around, I see that there is plenty of extra space to use this building as a filming location, but we'll have to do some things on a soundstage, just for angles we can't accomplish here, and for the ending."

"That's good to hear," Arianna agreed, hands steepled in front of her face.

"Ending?" Mike asked. Harding nodded yes.

"When the restaurant is destroyed as a result of the spirits passing on. Didn't you read the script?" he asked, slightly hopeful.

"Um… Most of it," Mike lied. Harding seemed satisfied and continued.

"We're just about ready to start the pre-production, set building and all that, and we'd like to setup here. It's a bit unorthodox, I know, but I have high hopes for this film. I want to bring in our cast on a business day, and I'd like our lead to tag along with Mr. Schmidt here. He'll be playing as a night guard in our story, so he might as well get the full effect," Harding explained.

"Who'd you get?" Mike asked.

"Drew Styles, he's an up-and-comer in the industry," the woman assistant explained.

"Thank you, Debra," Harding acknowledged, "A nice young man, I think you'll like him. Now, about the animatronics…"

Mike inhaled.

"…They're obviously limited to just their show routine, although I must say they are very advanced," Harding congratulated, "We were hoping if you could find the original voices for the characters, to record some lines for us." Arianna gave a slight smile.

"Actually, we do have actors that perform as the characters in special suits, for publicity and such," Arianna said, shooting Mike a look to keep quiet, "We actually have one in the back right now, if you'd like to meet him." Mike looked at Arianna bewildered, and she glared in return. Harding didn't notice.

"I'd love to! Where is he?" he asked.

"Just over here in Pirate's Cove," Arianna said, and stood up. Mike dragged her aside.

"Are you nuts?" he hissed, "_Foxy_? You want them to be in it?"

"We _need_ the cash, Schmidt," Arianna hissed back, "And they'll pay our 'actors' plenty."

"Um… Arianna?" Harding asked, "Something wrong?"

Arianna shoved Mike away, immediately putting on a smile.

"Not at all! Would you all please follow me?" She lead the group out into the Dining Area.

"Our actors are very professional, they've been doing it for years, and they always remain in character whenever they're using the costumes," Arianna "explained", "Our Foxy actor is already dressed up, but the suit's a little bit dinged after the character was officially retired. Lack of interest, you understand."

"You mean the 'Bite of '87'?" Harding's male assistant, Joe, said. Arianna stiffened.

"…That story was exaggerated," she said, "But the outcome is the same." The group stopped in front of the curtains.

"He'll only respond as the character, so address him as 'Foxy'," Arianna reminded, "Wait here please." She quickly entered the Cove.

As soon as the curtains closed, Arianna searched in the darkness for the animatronic fox.

"Psst! _Foxy!_" Arianna called, "You in here?" A clatter across the room seemed to indicate the affirmative, as a large shadow with glowing yellow eyes turned around. As her eyes adjusted, Arianna could make out other details such as the ears and his hook hand.

"Aye…" Foxy replied, suspicious as to why Arianna was in here, "Wha' do ye wan', lass? Did I do somethin' wrong?"

"No, no," Arianna replied shaking her head, "I just need your help. Can you come over here?"

Muffled clunking footsteps sounded as Foxy crossed to her, and soon he was staring down expectantly. Arianna shifted awkwardly, then cleared her throat.

"There are some people here to meet you. Come on," she said, "And _play along._" Arianna started towards the exit. Foxy's eyes widened. _Someone wants to meet me?_ He thought. He followed, pushing through the curtains, hesitantly, head first. He was greeted by Arianna, Mike, and three people he had never seen before. The one in the middle, a man with a beard, beamed upon seeing him.

"Oh my goodness," he said. His companions looked less than thrilled, and eyed the fox warily. Arianna turned to them.

"Here he is, Foxy the Pirate Fox," she introduced, before turning to Foxy, "Say hello, you've never been shy. _You're a guy in a costume._" The last part was barely audible, but he managed to get the hint.

"Ahoy there," Foxy greeted with a raised hook. The bearded man looked like his smile would rip his face apart.

"Peter would lose his mind over these!" he said, "Write this down, you two!"

"It's a mechanical suit, Mr. Harding, metal plates cover the actor inside, and then the character felt is applied. We've had these guys for years, and they're always a hit," Arianna lied. The bearded man nodded.

"I see… Fascinating. Mr., um, Foxy… heh… Do you have an agent?" Harding asked. Foxy blinked.

"A wha'?" he asked.

"I see what you mean by 'staying in character'," the woman assistant remarked dryly. Harding seemed almost giddy.

"I'd love to hire all of you for my picture! What do you say?" Harding asked, extending a hand out to shake. Foxy stared at it, unsure. Arianna snuck up next to him.

"_Say yes_," she whispered. Foxy nodded.

"Alrigh', lad, wha'ever ye say," he said suspiciously, and shot a glance over to Mike. The guard shrugged, causing the pirate to trust the situation even less.

"Wonderful! We'll start in a few days, just give my crew time to set up," Harding said, pulling a notebook and pen from his male assistant and hurriedly jotting down notes. The woman looked up from her own.

"Now, about your contract-," she began.

"That will be discussed with me," Arianna interrupted, "Let's go back to my office and iron out the details. Thank you, Foxy, you can go take that off now." Foxy narrowed his eyes at her, and cast a hopeful glance at the Dining Area before disappearing into Pirate's Cove. Harding suddenly looked up from his notes.

"Oh! I almost forgot! We'll have to fix up that suit before we film with the children!" Harding instructed his aides. The Pirate's Cove curtains were thrown open again.

"Say tha' again, lad?" Foxy asked, jaw hanging open.

"The kids," Harding said, "We'll need you fixed up for the beginning scenes, with all of our extras."

Foxy whooped and disappeared back into Pirate's Cove. Harding turned to Arianna, grinning.

"I like you lot already!" he said, and led the way back to Arianna's office.

* * *

**Much Later – First Day of Filming**

Freddy and the others stared in wonder at the altered interior of the pizzeria. It looked brand new, just as it did back in the 1980s. Even they did, as the studio provided Arianna with custom made suits to replace the faded and tattered ones. Foxy looked down at his newly-replaced torso proudly, running a now suited hand over it. His new hook, identical to his old one, shone brilliantly under the replaced lights.

"I don't know about you guys, but I think I like movies," Chica said as looked around, "I haven't been this yellow in years!"

"Look at this place! It looks so new!" Bonnie said. Several crew members looked at the 'bots curiously. "_Actors_," one muttered. The sound of a megaphone siren caused everyone to turn. Wesley Harding set down the device next to his director's chair.

"Hello everyone, and welcome to the first day of filming!" he greeted to scattered applause, "I intend to shoot this movie in chronological order, at least with scenes on-location, hence the facelift. I am also happy to introduce Mr. Mike Schmidt, a real Freddy Fazbear's night guard, who'll be our consultant, as well as the assistant to our friends in the suits over there." Harding jerked a thumb towards Freddy and the others. Mike gave an awkward wave at his introduction. Several of the film crew nodded.

"Now, let's get set for the opening scene. Get lighting going, cameras get prepped, and bring in our extras," Harding ordered, then called aside his cinematographer. Mike watched in awe as the small army of people headed off to their positions, each doing their assigned task and navigating the restaurant like they had worked there all their lives. Light trees rose up, cameras rolled out, and the lobby doors opened to allow a large group of kids and adults, all dressed in 80s clothing, to enter into the Dining Area.

"Places, everyone!" Harding ordered, and waved Mike and the animatronics over, "Okay, for this scene, I'd like to have you four act like the animatronics. I'd use the real thing, but they're not that reliable, and your costumes are convincing enough for me. Is there a real copy of the show's script?"

"We know it, sir," Bonnie replied. Harding smiled.

"Excellent, dear, just perform that onstage for now. We'll let you know what to do from there," he said, then yelled over his shoulder, "Prep cameras one through three, get all the angles!" before leaving to talk with his lighting director. One of his assistants turned to the group.

"That means get onstage," he said simply, and the animatronics hurriedly got to where they were supposed to be, Foxy glumly entering Pirate's Cove, finding it to be used yet again for storage. He knocked over a stack of film cans in spite.

One of the crew members noticed, and quickly crossed the set, opening the curtains wide.

"What are you doing in here? This is storage, go and wait behind the camera line!" he said, and Foxy followed him, surprised.

"I jus' though'…" he began, but let it drop, choosing to stand as far away from other people as possible.

Meanwhile, Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica stepped up onto the Show Stage, and watched happily as parents and children filled the tables and chairs in the Dining Area. It brought back memories of their first few years of business. Harding hit the siren on his megaphone again, and everyone gave him their attention.

"Okay! First scene!" he said, speaking through his megaphone, "This is just a regular day here, back in this place's heyday, so we're all smiling, laughing, having a good time!" He then pointed at the animatronics.

"You three, go through the motions of a show, you're the robots, remember that!" Harding ordered.

"Okay… Lights!" several spotlights activated.

"Camera!" Whirring from the cameras sounded.

"Marker!" Clapboards labeled "FNAF, Scene 1, Take 1" clacked.

"Action!" Mike motioned for the animatronics to begin, as the musical soundtrack began playing.

The room exploded into happy noise as children cheered, parents chatted, and the animatronics performed, immediately lapsing into their scripted show at the musical cue. Harding looked at them with a curious expression, then shook his head.

"Cut! Cut!" he called, and the room became quiet. "Sorry, 'Freddy,' other guys, can you move a bit more like robots? It's not that convincing."

Freddy and the others gave bewildered looks, unnerving most of the cast and crew.

"Be more… jerky, less lifelike, know what I mean?" Harding asked. They nodded. "Great! Action!"

The music started up again, and Freddy and the animatronics began to perform again, but much more stiffly, adding extra torque and stopping faster than they were used to. Cameras moved about the entire scene, and one crept closer to a specific family, seated in a booth where the animatronics could be seen in the background. It was a father, mother, and a daughter, which looked to Foxy a lot like Lindsay, but not quite.

"Happy Birthday, sweetie," the father said, "I'm sorry we couldn't get any of your friends to come."

"It's fine," said the daughter, "I'm just happy to be with you guys."

The daughter looked over the wall of the booth.

"Bear, make eye contact," Harding directed. Freddy did so, with a smile and a nod. The daughter gasped and pointed. Harding raised his microphone.

"Perfect, cut!" he said, "Nicely done, nicely done. Okay, let's try another angle here, and sweetie," the girl turned, "Be more amazed, okay? Alright, take three, let's go!"

The day dragged on and on, not that Freddy or the others minded. All of the scenes they filmed dealt with different patrons of the restaurant, and some footage of them performing. One of the crew members walked up to Mike as it became dark outside.

"Damn, those guys have been in those things for hours, but they don't look tired at all," he commented.

"Yeah, they're pretty used to this," Mike replied, yawning.

The final scene shot was of the little girl running into the curtains of Pirate's Cove, and Harding played the siren on his megaphone again.

"That's a wrap for today, ladies and gentlemen. Congratulations on our first day of filming, now go get some rest!" he said, and stood up, crossing over to Freddy and the others.

"That was great, guys! You're some of the most dedicated actors I've ever seen!" he said, and turned to Mike, "Oh, and thank you for moving the animatronics out. You know, it's remarkable how much those costumes look like them…" If that bothered him, he didn't care, and he soon went off to talk with the child actress that was the focus of the scene.

* * *

**Several Days Later**

Bonnie scanned at the script in front of her, memorizing her lines in an instant before handing it over to Freddy, who did the same, and handed it to Chica. The scenes they were filming today were again focused on the particular child actress that seemed to be plot-important, with an emphasis on her interacting with them. Except for Foxy, who had been taken to what the director had called a "sound stage" with Arianna tagging along. Harding himself had gone to the soundstage, with his assistant director Caroline Winters handling the filming on location. Chica then noticed something odd about the script.

"Says here I just say the same 'Hi! I'm Chica!' line over and over," she said, immediately changing her voice to a much more peppy and upbeat version as she recited it. The chicken scanned the sheet, "In fact, all this stuff is just the same thing over and over."

"It's the script, Chica, don't worry about it!" Bonnie said, "This is really fun, huh?"

"Yeah," Chica admitted, "But something seems a bit off with our parts."

"You have to remember, they're making us out to be much more robotic," Freddy reminded, "And Miss Arianna insisted that they, and I quote, 'keep buyin' it'." Chica shrugged.

"Alright."

"Places, everyone," Winters said simply, and once everything was setup, she called out, "Action!"

Bonnie walked offstage, wandering around as cameras swiveled, tracking her movement. One then focused on the family that was the focal point of these scenes. The mother watched the purple bunny go, and leaned forward, across the table, to the father.

"Are you sure it's safe they wander around? Don't you think it's… _odd?_" she asked. The father looked up from his pizza, and smiled.

"Now, now, dear, don't be ridiculous. I'm sure this place knows what they're doing!" he said confidently.

The camera swiveled to Bonnie, and the cameraman gave her a "go" signal.

"Hi! I'm Bonnie! Want to play?" she said in her usual upbeat tone.

"Cut!" Winters called, "Much too happy, run it again!" Bonnie blinked, but before she could question it, a crew member ushered her back to where she started.

"Action!" Winters ordered.

Bonnie walked offstage, wandering around as cameras swiveled, tracking her movement. One then focused on the family that was the focal point of these scenes. The mother watched the purple bunny go, and leaned forward, across the table, to the father.

"Are you sure it's safe they wander around? It's a little… weird, don't you think?" she asked. The father looked up from his drink, and smiled.

"Now, dear, don't be ridiculous, I'm sure this place knows what they're doing!" he said confidently.

The camera swiveled to Bonnie, and the cameraman gave her the "go" signal.

"Hi! I'm Bonnie, want to play?" she asked, dropping her enthusiasm, sounding a bit more forced. No pause came, and the scene progressed as normal, with the main child giggling and nodding. Bonnie found herself thoroughly enjoying the only game they played: hide and seek.

"I'm really good at it!" she had said enthusiastically when the direction was given. The scene resulted in being shot from the girl's perspective, following her with tight angles as she dashed around, eventually hiding inside the Security Office. Bonnie lumbered (intentionally making as heavy a footstep as she could manage) slowly down the hall, face fixed in a permanent wide grin, as requested. On film, the camera went into a first-person view, camera mounted under the desk as Bonnie stopped before slowly looking down and delivering her last line.

"Found you!" she said, in a deeper voice than normal, and Director Winters called cut. The child actress (who Bonnie just learned was named Alice Hart) crawled out from under the desk and looked up at Bonnie.

"That was fun!" Alice announced. Bonnie nodded.

"Sure was!" Bonnie agreed, "Want to play some more?"

"Yeah!"

With that, Bonnie covered her optics with her paws and began belting out numbers as Alice scampered out of the office, dodging crew members as they hauled lights and other tools and set pieces.

"…6…7…8…" Bonnie counted. Both she and Alice knew the unspoken agreement that you stopped at thirty for large spaces.

Alice continued to duck around the "backstage" portion and hid in the actual Backstage, which was being used as the animatronics' "dressing room." The child actress halted as the many eyeless spare heads stared back, before the door swung shut and left her in complete darkness.

"Alice? Alice?" Director Winters called out, walking around the restaurant, "Just one more thing, and then we can take a break."

"…25…26…27…" Bonnie called, crew members watching her curiously. Chica crossed her arms and smirked as Freddy shook his head with a smile on his face before walking back down the East Hall to join up with Mike.

"…29…30! Ready or not, here I come!" Bonnie announced, raising her volume as loud as it could go, causing the lighting director to jump at the sound.

With no regard to the work she began to interrupt, Bonnie began her search for Alice. It was a task she set the entirety of her concentration on, ignorant of equipment that got knocked around or a poor teamster's foot that got in the way. He immediately called out in pain, and hobbled over to a chair to assess the damage. Bonnie didn't notice, however, and continued on with her search, combing the entire Dining Area.

Extras were nudged out of the way, and annoyed muttering soon started to spread.

"Hey, knock it off, will ya? We got stuff to do!" one crew member said angrily.

"Uh huh…" Bonnie said, searching under the tables. The crew member threw up his hands and stormed away.

"Actors…" he muttered.

"Now if I was Alice, where would I hide?" Bonnie asked herself, taking a moment to look around. Her eyes fell on the offstage door that lead to the Backstage.

"Of course!" Bonnie said, and quickly crossed the restaurant, right in front of a small team filming an establishing shot, forcing a reshoot.

Again, Bonnie paid no mind, and entered Backstage. Since it belonged to the animatronics, no one else was inside, and it remained untouched by the restoration process. The robots used it as their "dressing room," and it came equipped with anything they needed, all courtesy of the studio. It was also the perfect place to hide, as far as Bonnie was concerned.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the room, night vision activating as the door swung shut behind her, taking a quick look around. She froze when she saw Alice sitting on the ground, hugging her knees and staring at the floor. Small whimpers sounded in the still quiet. Reaching to her right, Bonnie flicked on the lights, illuminating the many empty suit heads sitting on the shelves, the spare suit rack on the back wall, and the large maintenance table that dominated the middle of the space. Alice straightened up quickly, startled by the lights, and turned around to see Bonnie.

"Are you okay?" the rabbit asked as Alice ran up, burying her face in Bonnie's stomach and hugging tightly. Bonnie hugged back, figuring out the answer.

"It's scary in here, huh?" she asked. Alice nodded, still crying.

"It got dark and I couldn't see the door," she stammered. Bonnie slowly lowered herself down to Alice's level, and gave an encouraging smile.

"It's okay, there's nothing to be afraid of back here, just some stuff for my costume," she explained, and with one arm still wrapped around Alice began pointing to things in the room. "There's an extra me, an extra Freddy, and an extra Chica, in case our suits get dirty or broken. Neat, right?"

Alice nodded, wiping her eyes dry. Bonnie stood up, and grabbed Alice's hand.

"Let's go back, I think we have some more to do."

* * *

Freddy smiled as he watched Bonnie lead out the small actress from Backstage, seeing them hug upon stepping out into the Dining Area. Mike shifted from where he was leaning against the wall next to him. Across the way, the two could see Chica filming some small scene, rolling her eyes dramatically upon having to do another take.

"How do you think Foxy's doing?" Mike asked.

"Oh, he's probably enjoying all the attention," Freddy replied. Mike scoffed.

"I just hope he's taking it easy on Arianna." Freddy didn't reply, but smiled a little bit wider.

* * *

"Foxy! _Foxy!_" Arianna called, sprinting after the fleeing fox.

The journey to the backlot had proved interesting, as Foxy had to squeeze into the backseat of Arianna's small sedan. The car was certainly a sight, with the rear right side practically dragging along the ground, the window obscured by what other motorists could only described as a big, red… _thing._ After spending the entire drive contorted in the backseat, Foxy literally leaped at the chance to get out.

One of the first things that caught his attention was the studio's storage area of large set pieces. Massive props sat in a large fenced-off space, waiting to be taken apart and reused. And sitting prominently in the center was a half-built pirate ship.

_Of course,_ Arianna thought bitterly as she watched Foxy run up to the gate, slamming up against it and looking at the vessel longingly. She slowed to a walk and stormed up next to him.

"Look at tha'," Foxy said as she walked up, "Tha' be one of tha fines' ships I've ever lain me eyes on."

Arianna rolled her eyes.

"It's a prop, Foxy, it's not real," she said. Foxy turned to look at her.

"O' course it's real! Look at it!" he said, and resumed staring.

"Half of the bottom is gone!" Arianna pointed out.

"I bet she's fast, too," Foxy said, ignoring her.

"It has the words 'Property of _Seas of Gold_ Production' written on the side!"

"Have ta find a way ta ge' it ou', o' course..." Foxy mused, "Ye don' think these swabs'll miss it, do ye?"

"You are _not_ stealing a fake pirate ship!" Arianna fumed.

"O' course no'," Foxy replied, "I be plunderin' this _real_ pirate ship!"

"_It's fake!_" Arianna exploded, drawing stares from various people walking by, "It's a fake pirate ship just like you're a fake pirate!"

Foxy paused, head snapping in Arianna's direction, a scowl now plastered across his face.

"Wha' did ye say ta me, lass?" he asked in a low voice. Arianna faltered at the change, but stood her ground.

"You heard me," she said stubbornly.

Foxy lunged at her, stopping with his snout just centimeters from the tip of Arianna's nose. A deep growl sounded from the depths of his voice box, his eyes narrowed dangerously. To her credit, Arianna didn't flinch, but her eyes widened and she visibly paled as she looked up.

"Jesus, " she said, "Fine. I'm sorry. You're a real pirate."

Foxy brightened immediately, growl fading away and angry scowl flipping into a broad grin. He put an arm around Arianna's shoulder.

"No hard feelin's, lass!" he said brightly.

Arianna blinked.

"Ookay," she said, then ducked under Foxy's arm, "C'mon, we got places to be." _You damn psychopath_, she thought.

As the odd pair walked throughout the backlot, Arianna kept glancing back at Foxy, expecting to see him looking at her with the same intense hatred, but instead saw him looking around curiously. If he felt bad or even remembered about his outburst, he didn't show it. Nevertheless, Arianna kept her distance.

"So where do we be goin'?" Foxy asked, catching up to walk parallel to Arianna.

"Soundstage C," Arianna said, looking at the map she had been given.

* * *

No one batted an eye at the seven-foot tall pirate fox and the woman leading it through the winding back roads and paths, but then again, it probably was not that unusual of a sight. Instead the workers and other studio personnel gave the two polite nods, and occasionally a sympathetic smile to the poor guy in the fox suit, who had to be sweating buckets as the sun started to beat down.

Finally, they reached their destination, a large hangar-like building with a gigantic "C" painted on each wall. Wesley Harding greeted them at the entrance.

"Ah, hello again!" he said, shaking Arianna's hand.

"Thank you, I wanted to-," Arianna began, but Harding had already turned to Foxy.

"Wow, already in costume, I'm impressed by your dedication, 'Foxy'," Harding said, forming air quotes as he said the robots name, "It's got to be hot as hell in that thing." Foxy just shrugged. Harding chuckled, and then gestured with his hand to the large space behind them.

"What do you think? Did we get it right?" Harding asked.

Made up in the middle of the large space was a near-perfect replica of Pirate's Cove, with everything from the stage to the small playground that sat opposite produced in astounding detail. Camera mounts sat everywhere, and portions of wall were set on metal tracks so they could be moved out of the way as necessary.

"There wasn't much room on location," Harding explained, "So we made some movie magic. Got some original blueprints, a few old photos, and voila!"

Foxy stared in shock, huge grin forming on his face.

"Blazes..." he muttered, before sprinting over and onto the stage, staring out at the fake room in front of him. Harding raised his eyebrows.

"...Huh," was all he had to say.

"Um, yeah, the costumes are pretty mobile, and..." Arianna's explanation weaned off. Harding seemed to buy it.

"I swear, our costume designer has to be tearing his hair out. He used to create monsters and stuff for me years ago," Harding said, "But enough wasting time. Places, everyone!"

The purpose of this shoot again seemed to be more footage of a regular day of operation, specifically with a focus on Foxy. Arianna had to admit, Harding's crew had done their homework. It was as if they had become Fazbear experts, and knew everything about the animatronic's shows, the restaurant's layout, even what the staff looked like. She watched as Foxy enthusiastically told one of his dozens of pirate stories to an honestly enthralled group of kids, including a girl who looked remarkably like Alice. Cuts were called whenever the fox became a bit too animated, and he was frequently reminded to be more robotic.

Dealing with Harding's and the rest of the crew's requests seemed to be wearing on Foxy's already paper-thin temper when it came to dealing with adults, but the genuine delight (not to mention memories of Caleb) kept him in check.

"Cut!" Harding called, "You're still a bit too animated. Remember, you're supposed to be a robot. Let's run it again."

"I _be_ a robo', ye mangy dog," Foxy muttered.

"What was that?" Harding asked, concerned, "Is something wrong? Do you need a break? You've been in that costume for a very long time. Come to think of it, I don't recall you getting any water, can we get our Foxy some water?" The last part was a shout in the direction of the craft's table. An assistant quickly rushed up to Foxy with a large cup of water. He stared at it like it was toxic.

"Er... no, mate," he said, pushing it away, "I be alrigh'." The assistant shrugged, and set it by a large chair intended for the pirate. Harding gave Foxy a curious look.

"Okay, if you're sure..." he said, "Alright, then, lights! Camera! _Action!_"

Foxy told a different story each time, keeping the kids entertained and compliant with the growing number of takes. After three more attempts, he had become so sick of being interrupted mid-tale that he forced himself to drop most of his inflection, stopped filtering out interference, and limited his movements to incredibly jerky movements constricted to his upper body. It went off without a hitch.

"Fantastic!" Harding said after rolling stopped, "Alright, get everything set up for the Big Scene, and we'll go from there."

The same assistant ran up to Foxy, papers in his hands.

"Here's your new lines. Sorry, had a rewrite this morning," he said.

"Thank ye," Foxy said quickly, and scanned through them, memorizing them instantly. He frowned.

"Wha' am I sayin' here?" he asked, pointing with his hook, "Wha's it mean?"

The assistant looked at them.

"Oh, it's just gibberish," he explained, "Doesn't mean anything. It's for the Big Scene." He walked away without further explanation. Arianna wandered over.

"So..." she began awkwardly, "You... okay?"

"Fine, lass, fine," Foxy replied, and pointed to the same gibberish, "Wha's going on here?"

Arianna squinted at it. Her eyes suddenly widened as she read the stage directions.

"Oh no..." she said.

* * *

Caroline Winters, assistant director, hung up the phone in the pizzeria. She grabbed her bullhorn, getting the attention of the extras as they mingled, the children gathered around Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and an awkward Mike.

"Alright, I just got off the phone with Wesley, and he says we're go for the Big Scene. We're having them happen parallel to each other. All part of his 'creative process,'" she said, sarcasm dripping in as she air quoted the last two words, "So, I need all of the kids to please gather together in the middle. And get the characters their new lines."

"I like the sound of new," Chica said as an assistant ran up with the script. Each animatronic got one, and immediately began scanning through it, adding it to their show programming to automate the process. Both Bonnie and Chica paused at the same time, reaching up with a finger and pointing to the same section.

"What does this mean?" they chorused. Freddy gave the page a confused look of his own. Mike leaned around Bonnie's back, reading where she was pointing.

"Looks like a load of gibberish," he said, and read past it. He suddenly froze.

"No. No, they wouldn't," Mike said.

"Wouldn't what?" Chica asked, "Great, now what do we have to do?"

"Don't be like that, Chica," Bonnie said, "C'mon, this is fun, right?"

"Yeah, but-," Mike began. Bonnie smiled down at him.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it'll be fine," she said, and read along. Immediately her smile drooped. "Oh..."

Freddy skipped over the gibberish as well.

"Ah," he said, "I see..."

Chica looked at the two of them, and started reading as well.

"Well fine, if you won't fill me in- oh," she said, interrupting herself.

"Yeah..." Mike said, rubbing his arm.

A long pause hung over the group.

"So, do we...?" Chica asked.

"It is in the script," Mike said sadly.

"But the kids..." Freddy said. Bonnie stayed silent for several moments.

"...Why is it me?" she asked, ears drooping.

The question hung until Chica surprised everyone by hugging Bonnie.

"I know, Bon, I know," she said. Mike looked on sadly.

"It... it _is _a horror movie," he said. Bonnie looked at him.

"A what?" she asked quietly.

"A... horror movie," Mike explained, "People see it... to be scared."

"But... But it's about us," Bonnie protested, "We're not scary? Right?"

"Well..." Chica began, but the look Bonnie gave her made her stop. "No, Bon, not at all. Well, Foxy, yeah..."

Bonnie's head drooped.

"Bad joke, sorry," Chica said, and hugged tighter, so tight that if the pair weren't made of metal, it could break a bone.

"Okay, places!" Winters called, turning to the animatronics, "What's up? Something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Mike said quickly, "We're fine."

"Alright, then places. We have a timeline," she said.

* * *

"No, no, you don't understand, you have this fact completely wrong!" Arianna roared. The assistant put up his hands.

"I'm sorry, but the witness we contacted said that the rabbit one-," he began.

"Bonnie."

"-Bonnie was the one involved in that attack," he finished, and began to turn, "Now if you excuse me-."

"Hey!" Arianna exclaimed, pulling the assistant back, "We're not done! Bonnie was _not_ responsible for the Bite of '87! _He_ was!" She pointed to Foxy, who was talking with the extras as they sat around him in a corner of the soundstage.

"But our researchers-"

"To hell with your researchers! I work for this company! I _am_ this company, and if you want to spread this tragedy, fine, but get it _right!_" she spat. The shouting caught Foxy's attention, and he crossed over.

"Wha' be wit' all tha noise?" he asked, "Somethin' wrong?"

"The next scene is the Bite," Arianna said simply. Foxy's eyes widened.

"_Wha'!?_" he exclaimed, "No! No, no, I'm no' goin' ta do it!" He crossed his arms and stamped his foot to prove his point.

"You're not," Arianna growled, "_Bonnie_ is." Foxy jolted as if electrocuted. He stared at Arianna, jaw dropped in shock.

"...No. No, no, no _no!_" he said, the last "no" coming out as a near-shriek, "No' her, no' Bonnie! It was _me! _I did it! Make me do it, fine, but don' make Bonnie!"

"But it's in the script!" the assistant protested.

"I don't give a fuck about what's in the script! Change it!" Arianna ordered.

"I can't!"

"Oh yes ye can!" Foxy said, grabbing the man by the neck and lifting him nearly a foot off the ground.

"Help!" he choked, clawing at Foxy's arm

"Foxy, stop!" Arianna said. He turned to her, eyes burning, glow visible even in the stage lights. The same manic anger the manager caught a glimpse of by the ship was now out in full force.

"_No_," Foxy said.

"Please!" the assistant gasped, "It's not... my fault."

"Foxy! I am your boss, I order you to put him down!" Arianna said with as much force as she could muster. He ignored her, glaring up at the man in his grasp.

"It won't solve anything!" Arianna continued. The assistant continued to choke and gasp. She decided to change strategies.

"You're scaring the children!" she said. Foxy flinched, eyes losing the intensity. He looked around, then at the assistant he was slowly choking the life out of. He let go, and the man fell to the ground, gasping for air, before dragging himself away. The fox looked around.

"Tha kids!" he said, "Where, I didn' mean ta, I jus'," he stammered.

"They're not here," Arianna said, "I had to make you stop."

If Foxy could, he would've sighed in relief.

"…Was it bad?" he asked. Arianna gave him a look of bewilderment.

"Considering, you know, you were _choking a man to death_, I'd say yes, you were bad," she said, "You're crazy."

Foxy nodded.

"Aye, lotsa people say tha'," he agreed, "I be sorry, if it makes it be'ter."

Arianna looked to where the assistant had fled, and saw them getting pointed out to security. The guards drew nightsticks and started their way.

"I don't think it will…" she said.

* * *

"Okay, prepare the dummy," Caroline Winters directed. One of the producers dragged her aside.

"Hey, I know it's Harding's whole deal, but… do we really have to make the kids watch this?" she asked, "I mean, this is going to be intense." Caroline sighed.

"Yes, I know, but it's what the director wants. Honestly I'm not sure why he's over in the soundstage," she said, "We need him here more than anything."

"I can understand why he's not…" the producer retorted.

By this point, one of the crew members walked on set with a startlingly realistic mannequin that greatly resembled Alice. The real Alice was currently sitting with Bonnie under a stage light, the two watching the goings-on together.

"Hey, that looks like me!" she said, pointing, "Look Bonnie!"

"Yeah…" Bonnie said dejectedly. "Alice?"

"Yeah?"

"What I have to do… I just want you to understand that that's not who I am, and it's all fake, okay?" Bonnie asked, "It's going to look bad. Understand?"

Alice scrunched her face up, thinking hard, before nodding vigorously.

"I think so," she replied.

"Good," Bonnie said, and hugged her. Alice took this moment to look up through a small gap between Bonnie's suit's head and her neck, where the inside was partially lit from behind by the light they were under.

Through the gap Alice could see the many wires, and a small part of Bonnie's endoskeleton. She gasped, and Bonnie looked down.

"What?" she asked.

Alice didn't say anything, but kept a large smile on her face.

"Okay, we are ready to go. Can I get the characters in position, and the dummy prepped?" Caroline requested. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica took their places onstage. Alice stood right at the foot of it, looking up at them happily. The dummy replica of Alice was placed just out of frame, ready for the switch.

"Can't believe those guys are gonna really bite that thing," a cameraman whispered to Mike, "I know it's made of like, Play-Dough, but still… That's some devotion.

"Uh-huh," Mike said, crossing his arms.

"And in front of all those kids, too. Man, those kids are going to be terrified to even set foot in this place after th-."

"Will you shut up?" Mike hissed, shooting the man a death glare, "We're only doing this because _your_ people told us to." The cameraman nodded, and kept silent. Mike returned to watching the stage, giving the trio an encouraging smile. Freddy put on a poker face, and nodded curtly, while Chica pointed to Caroline and rolled her eyes, before wrapping an arm around a quite obviously upset Bonnie, who stared at the floor. The chicken said a few words to the rabbit before patting her on the shoulder. Whatever she said seemed to have a little effect, as Bonnie nodded and stood up straight, her expression unreadable.

"Okay, places everyone," Caroline called out, "Lights, camera, action!"

"We hope you enjoyed our show!" Freddy said cheerfully in his goofier show voice.

"Yeah! We've had a blast!" Chica agreed.

"Get me closer, get me closer!" Alice called, and several kids boosted her up onto the stage. She ran up to Bonnie, hugging her left leg. The rabbit's forced smile fell for a millisecond before springing back.

"We hope you come see us again real soon!" she said, then looked down at Alice. This line was a cue, and in unison Freddy, Chica, and Bonnie all twitched and snapped their heads to look straight out in front, faces expressionless.

"_Ahrk fin norok paal graan_," they chanted in unison, earning genuine bizarre looks from the children, "_Fod nust hon zindro zaan_."

"What?" a child asked. Bonnie then looked down at Alice, again expressionless, before reaching down and picking her up by the armpits. She looked at the robot uncertainly.

"And switch!" Caroline ordered, and two crewmen ran onstage, the first one taking Alice from Bonnie as the second handed her the dummy. The whole swap took less than five seconds before the men and Alice were out of sight.

"And bite!" Caroline ordered. Bonnie stared at the dummy, and didn't move.

"C'mon, bite!" Caroline repeated. Again, Bonnie refused to move.

"Bite!" Caroline called, starting to lose her patience. Bonnie looked at Mike pleadingly. He nodded, and started to walk towards Caroline, when she grabbed her megaphone and slammed it to her mouth.

"_Bite!_" she roared, and Bonnie jumped, before snapping her head forward, jaws agape, and closing them around the dummy's head. Mike watched as events unfolded in slow motion.

The dummy broke easily, fragile shell splitting and releasing its contents of syrupy stage blood, which began to pour into Bonnie's mouth and leaked through gaps in her jaws. The extras dutifully began to scream, causing a scene of pandemonium in full view of the cameras. It continued for several minutes, the animatronics remaining motionless, a growing puddle of red on the stage. A large stain formed on Bonnie's torso, but none of the substance reached her robotic components. After five minutes of screaming and crying, Caroline mercifully called cut.

The children were rushed away to be calmed, leaving Freddy, Bonnie and Chica onstage. Mike ran up to them, not caring about getting any of the syrup on him as he immediately threw his arms around Bonnie. A crew member took the drained dummy away.

"Bonnie, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so, _so_ sorry," Mike repeated. Bonnie didn't respond nor did she return the hug. She stared straight ahead, still as a statue. Freddy and Chica didn't say anything, watching from either side as Mike comforted the stunned animatronic.

Mike held the hug for several long moments, and became concerned that Bonnie had still remained still and speechless.

"Bon?" Mike asked, "You okay?" Bonnie kept staring out into the Dining Area as she said.

"I'd like to go Backstage now," she said quietly.

"Sure, sure, c'mon," Mike said, grabbing her paw-like hand and leading her to the door. Caroline climbed down from her chair, a clipboard in her hand, and strode straight for Bonnie. As she opened her mouth to say something, Chica intercepted her.

"_Not. Now,_" she said, eyes narrowed into an absolutely withering stare. Caroline stopped in her tracks, watching the group disappear through the Backstage door with one final shake of the head from Freddy. He paused halfway through the door.

"I hope you're happy with that," he said, "Because we will not be doing it again." The door banged shut.

* * *

"I said I be sorry!" Foxy protested as Arianna dragged him out of the soundstage.

"Well it didn't matter," Arianna shot back, "Looks like you ruined your chances of still acting in this damn thing."

"I be fine with tha'," Foxy replied. Arianna growled in frustration.

"Gah! You… Argh!" she spat, "Let's just get out of here."

Fuming, she kept a firm grip on Foxy's wrist, tugging whenever he got distracted. They soon made it out into the parking lot.

Harding had been concerned with the assistant's accusation, but kept security from apprehending them. He soon got a call from Caroline, who explained what had happened back at the restaurant.

"I'm on my way," Harding said, "Something's not quite as it seems, and I want to figure it out."

He followed Foxy and Arianna at a safe distance, watching the pissed off manager shove Foxy into the back of a dark blue sedan and speeding away, the car sagging towards the rear right quarter. The director jumped into his own vehicle and headed in the same direction: towards Freddy Fazbear's.

* * *

Meanwhile, at the restaurant, Mike had sat Bonnie on the maintenance table and was working on getting the syrup out of her suit.

"Looks like it's ruined," Chica observed.

"It's not ours," Mike explained, "We're going to have to give it back anyway."

"Eh, that's fine. They're a little stiff in the knees." Mike patted Bonnie on her shoulder.

"How you holding up, sweetheart?" he asked. She shrugged. Mike nodded, and kept scrubbing at the syrup, before turning his attention to the rabbit's mouth.

"Open up," he said, and Bonnie opened her jaws as wide as the mechanism would allow.

Globs of the syrup filled the inside of Bonnie's mouth, looking as if she had eaten a dozen jelly-filled donuts. Mike began the sticky job of scooping them all out. He worked in silence, neither he nor any of the animatronics willing to say anything. The only sound for a long while was the soft _sssh_ of a rag running through the fur of Bonnie's suit.

"I'm proud of you," Mike said, breaking the silence.

"What?" Bonnie asked.

"What you did was very brave," Mike praised, scrubbing at a troublesome spot. Bonnie nodded glumly. The guard stopped cleaning for a moment to wring out the rag. Chica opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to decide against it, leaving the group in silence until a light knocking sounded on the door. Mike stood up.

"I'll see what's up," he said, and opened the door a crack, seeing Alice on the other side.

"Oh, hello," Mike greeted, "Can I help you with something?"

"Is Bonnie okay?" Alice asked, trying to peek around Mike.

"She's fine," Mike replied, "Just getting her cleaned up."

"Oh."

"Yep."

"…Can I see her?"

The question caught Mike off-guard. He cast a glance back at the robots, then at Alice.

"Um… I'll ask," he said, and turned back around, "Bon? Alice wants to see you."

"She does?" Bonnie asked, perking up slightly.

"Yes," Mike replied, "Should I let her in?"

"Of course," Freddy answered. Bonnie nodded in agreement. Mike shrugged and opened the door. Alice strode purposefully into the room, stopping in front of the maintenance table where Bonnie sat. She looked the robot up and down. Bonnie waited nervously for Alice's reaction.

"That stuff doesn't go away, huh?" Alice finally said, climbing up onto the table (with a boost from Freddy). Bonnie smiled.

"No, not really," she replied.

"Yeah… They covered me in it over there and had me scream," Alice explained, "I'm still red on my head, see?" She parted her hair, a small chunk of dried syrup fell from it. "I hate when I have to wear it."

"You're familiar with it?" Mike asked.

"Uh-huh," Alice replied, "I've been in a few movies with this goop. Is it hard on robots?"

Freddy, Chica, Bonnie, and Mike stiffened at the question.

"Um, I… I don't know," Mike replied, "Never used it on robots."

"But you guys are robots," Alice said matter-of-factly, "I saw your metal parts. Are you guys the real characters?"

"No, no, of course no-,"

"Yes," Bonnie answered honestly.

"I knew it!" Alice cheered.

"Just don't tell anyone, okay?" Bonnie asked. Alice nodded enthusiastically, before putting on hand on Bonnie's leg.

"Are you okay? You seem sad," she asked. Bonnie frowned for a second before forcing a smile.

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry about me," she said.

"You didn't like biting that thing, did you?" Alice asked.

Bonnie looked down.

"No… No I didn't."

"Did it taste bad?"

Chica laughed out loud, and Bonnie chuckled.

"We can't taste. Robots, remember?" Bonnie reminded.

"Oh yeah," Alice remembered, "So why are you sad? Do you want to talk about it? My mom talks to me when I'm sad."

Bonnie smiled.

"That's sweet of you, but it's fine," Bonnie insisted, "I just had some bad memories from a long time ago."

"Ok," Alice said, and sat for a few moments before hugging Bonnie. The rabbit hugged the girl gently back as the mood lifted.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door being slammed open sounded, and Foxy could be heard shouting through the entire building.

"Don' do it, Bonnie!" he called, "Make me do it! It wasn' you! It's me!"

Seconds later, the fox burst through the Backstage door, looking around frantically. He saw Bonnie sitting down on the table.

"Bonnie! Matey! They're goin' ta make ye do the Bite!" he exclaimed, before noticing Alice, "Oh, ahoy there, lass!" he said cheerfully, before going back into a panic. "I'll do it, we'll make 'em have me do it, we'll-." He stopped as he noticed the stains on Bonnie's torso and mouth.

"Blast!" he swore, to which Bonnie covered Alice's ears, "We be too late, Ms. Arianna!"

At that moment, a disheveled looking Arianna threw open the door to Backstage. She stormed over to Mike.

"Keep him," she said, pointing a finger at Foxy, "I'm _never_ dealing with him again!" She noticed Bonnie, and her face softened.

"Hey," she said, "You… okay?" Bonnie nodded, hugging Alice.

"I'm fine," she replied, "Just talking with Alice."

"That's nice," Arianna said absent-mindedly, before turning back to Mike, "You have no idea what that thing has put me through!" Mike put his head in his hands before dragging them down across his face.

"What'd he do now?" he asked, exasperated.

"Almost killed someone," Arianna replied flatly, "Again."

Mike sighed heavily, before turning to Foxy.

"Foxy, how many times have Freddy and I told you to keep your temper under control?" the guard asked, sounding like a disappointed parent, "Are we going to have to take away your chest again? You _do_ remember what you tried to do to that inspector, don't you?" Foxy looked down guilty.

"I don' mean ta…" he replied glumly. Chica imitated a sigh.

"Foxy, you lovable psycho, what're we gonna do with you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Don't make light of this!" Arianna protested. Chica rolled her eyes.

The group turned as the door was opened again, Director Harding walking through and crossing his arms.

"Okay, we need to talk," he said.

"So… You lot have been doing some strange things since we started this thing," Harding said, "You don't take breaks, I never see you out of costume, you memorize the script in seconds, and you can lift up an entire intern with one hand." He scratched his beard in thought. The group waited for him to continue.

"I think I know what's going on here," Harding concluded, "You're _actually robots!_"

"Dun, dun, _dunnnn!_" Chica added for effect. Harding stifled a laugh, clearing his throat and maintaining a straight face.

"So… am I right?" he asked.

"Yep," Mike replied flatly. Harding's eyes widened.

"Really?" he asked, "I'm actually right, these are real robots?"

"Mmhmm," Mike answered, nodding.

"The real animatronics?"

"That's right."

"And did they actually…?"

"Yes."

"And the guards?"

"Technically not their fault, but yes."

"And the ghosts?"

"Bullshit."

"And biting that kid?" Harding asked. Again, Mike nodded.

"It was actually some guy, and it was that one," Mike explained, pointing to Foxy, "They're not dangerous or evil, as I'm sure you've figured out. But they're not exactly keen on acting scary."

Harding frowned, dragging a hand through his hair.

"I don't understand," he said. Freddy spoke up.

"Mr. Harding, we're not like normal robots. We think for ourselves, we have emotions, and know who we are," he explained, "And we'd rather not relive that terrible period."

Harding paled as the realization set in.

"Oh…" he said, staring off at nothing, "Of… O-of course, I didn't realize…" He walked out of the door in a sort of stupor.

"Mr. Harding?" Bonnie asked.

"I just… I just need a minute… We'll work something out," he said, "I'm sorry, I had no idea."

The door swung shut.

* * *

Harding immediately moved production from the pizzeria to the studio, deciding to find another location that would be a suitable double. This move resulted in all the original, faded décor to be returned, albeit cleaner than when they were swapped out. Without the extra stage lighting, the restaurant was back in its darker setting. Despite Harding's protests, the refurbished suits were collected, as they belonged to the studio. Foxy had what remained of his suit strapped back on, and was slightly upset, but he missed the extra freedom of movement the lack of suit legs gave him, and celebrated by running laps through the restaurant until Chica locked him Backstage. Aside from the cleaner interior, it was like the movie never happened.

One thing that did change was that the restaurant had gotten paid, and through Harding's intervention, each animatronic received a generous payday, all of which went to extending the life of the pizzeria. After Arianna crunched the numbers, it was clear that, if operations remained constant, there was enough to keep the restaurant open until the middle of next year. Life would go back to normal. And soon, Mike and the animatronics found themselves enjoying just another night at Freddy Fazbear's Pizza.

* * *

_**A/N: Here ya go.**_


	5. Mangle's Night Out, by Jimmy-le-Sniper

_**Mangle's Night Out**_

_**A Quick-Shot by Jimmy-le-Sniper**_

_**Edited for Upload by DeltaV**_

_**It's Delta!: While digging through what could be salvaged from my lost writing, I found this little gem, still intact due to having used a dropbox. I decided, eh, might as well, just so you fine folk could have SOMETHING while I sort this all out. And Jimmy, damn son, you sure do get a lot of exposure over here.**_

* * *

**Two Days After the Events of "Solar Storm"**

"...And Mangle, could you please take care of the cobwebs behind the dropped ceiling as usual? Thank you. That is all for tonight." said Marion before sinking back into his box.

Already, the animatronics were spreading around to accomplish their chores.

"Well, I guess I won't be seeing you until tomorrow then ! Good night Mangle !" said Balloon Boy with a cheerful voice.

"Yes_ssskrzt_...I'll see y-y-you around BB." replied the robot, dangling from the ceiling.

"Oh, and glad to see your voice box is doing better !"

"Me too, d-d-dear...Me too." she replied warmly.

She was indeed happy to hear her real voice again, if still a bit stuttering and static-y. It happened about two days ago. What a strange night that was. Between the night sky suddenly glowing with dancing trails of light, Marion not waking up, BB having some rather strange mood swings (it was strange to see him in any other mood than his default "happy" one, really), the Toys unable to get anything else but numbers-stations and police radio broadcasts out of their voice-box and finally her own busted voice-box going back online, things hadn't been this crazy since their old friends from the other Freddy place showed up a while back.

As Balloon Boy happily wobbled away holding a cleaning rag in his hand, Mangle carefully dislodged a tile from the ceiling and crawled inside. She was excited. During the past few days, she had been getting ahead of her job just for this opportunity. Tonight was her night out.

She discovered long ago and by total accident that if she was "behind the scenes", like in the crawlspace under the building, or inside the dropped ceiling when 6 AM hit, she would remain active for the rest of the day. The first few times, she aimlessly wandered around, bored out of her robotic mind, until she found that one of the vents in the kitchen led to the roof of the building.

Amazed by how lively the outside world was during the day, she would lay flat on the rooftop and observe the surroundings of the building for hours. The traffic going by, the few people waiting for the bus, across the street...Luckily, they were all too far to trigger her faulty face-recognition system.

And occasionally, when Marion gave them the night off (meaning he didn't wake up during that particular night), she would come up here as well. She liked it even more when the sun was gone. The pink areas of her suit were heat-sensitive so she would be able to test the heat of the food she brought to the Kids Cove by hovering the palm of her hand over it or see if one of her little angels had a fever by resting his head against her cheeks. So when she stood there, she would feel the cool night breeze across her "skin", and it was a nice sensation, being programmed to dislike excessive heat. The noises were fewer, the sky often full of stars, even shooting ones, lazily making their way across the celestial vault in a pair, side by side, blinking red and green, respectively, at a steady pace.

She thought about sharing her spot with the others, but getting there required a vertical ascension that only her peculiar disposition allowed her to make. Plus Marion always told them to stay inside no matter what. He would probably be mad at her if he found out. So she kept it a secret and never ventured one foot away from the building. This place was her own little secret garden.

As quietly as possible, she nudged the cap on top of the vent and gently set it down on the roof. She crawled to her usual spot, and rested her head on the ground, looking up at the stars. Her mind started browsing random memories in her data banks. She saw the times where she was still in pristine condition, she remembered the many little children she comforted, recalled each and every single hug she ever gave or received. Imitating a static-filled sigh, she closed her eyes. She missed those days. She missed her little angels. Despite them being the cause of her decrepit state, she couldn't bring herself to blame them. They were just so young, they didn't know better. She would have given anything, _anything_, just to be able to look after children again. She hid it pretty well from the others, and tried to cope with Balloon Boy, but it was slowly destroying her on the inside.

After about 30 minutes spent eyes closed, listening to the song of the sleeping city, a noise jolted her awake. A noise she hadn't heard in years. A noise she dreaded down to the very depth of her circuits. A noise that made old pieces of code load up in her memory. Somewhere nearby, a small child, no, _a baby_, was crying. And something needed to be done about it. Silently, she turned her head like a radar dish, trying to locate the source of the sound. After confirming it was coming from one of the apartment buildings a mere 100 yards away, she grabbed a gutter and gently lowered herself down to the parking lot. Keeping a low profile as to not be spotted by her friends still inside (or anyone else for that matter), she silently made her way towards the promise of a renewed purpose.

* * *

Babies weren't especially known for being quiet at night. With heavy eyelids, Patricia reached for the light switch in total darkness. After clumsily sitting upright, she glanced at her alarm clock, tauntingly displaying a bright red 03:45.

"Time for another bottle" she mumbled as she slowly stumbled towards her kitchen. After a few minutes of toppling things over, she finally managed to get a warm bottle of powdered milk ready. Walking down the corridor, she noticed the crying had stopped. She sighed.

"Young miss, you're a little hooligan, waking me up for nothing..." she thought with a slight smile.

She decided to tiptoe into her baby's room nonetheless, to make sure everything was alright. The first summer heat had begun a few days ago and for the first time since she came back from the hospital, she had left her baby's window cracked open. Some very faint light was coming from the street outside. Barely enough to make out the outline of things. After expertly dodging a few toys lying around, she got up close to the bed, without a noise. There she was, sleeping like a log, with her large mobile overhead, gently playing a lullaby.

She stood there a for a minute or two, watching how peacefully her baby was sleeping until something clicked in her sleepy brain. There never was a mobile over the bed. She slowly turned her head to the left and her blood froze in her veins when she saw two beady white pupils staring right back at her. A car drove by at that very moment, providing a tiny bit of extra light and she caught a glimpse of what was menacingly hanging over her baby's bed and inches away from her face. It looked like a mangled mess of sharp metallic parts, a nightmarish robotic spider of sorts. A stylized white fox head with makeup and a gaping maw was fixed on the closest appendage. It slowly rose a suited finger over its mouth full of sharp teeth and in a quiet, feminine, robotic voice, muttered :

"ShhR_ZZhht_ ! D-D-Don't wake the baby."

She let out a shriek loud enough to wake the entire town up and instinctively dove her arms right into the crib to get her baby away from this monster. Her eyes grew wide when another set of suit-less arms grabbed hers, inches away from her child. Startled by the noise, her daughter began crying again, uncontrollably. The machine emitted a long, low-tone, garbled growl, her eyes slowly warmed to an evil red and her head started twitching.

"Loo-loo-look at what you've wrought. You scared her. And you call yourself her m-m-mother ?"

The machine narrowed its eyes. At that very moment, something broke in her. Part of her programming went haywire. Old corrupted snippets of code collided with each other in a chaotic set of erroneous instructions. Hundreds of console warnings filled her peripheral vision.

"You...You d-d-don't deserve her. Get away fr-fr-from my child."

The machine shoved her away from the bed. Tumbling backwards, the woman tripped on some toys and fell on her back. She got up just in time to see the monstrosity crawling out the window, with a small and noisy cocoon of blankets in its arms.

* * *

After watching the cards rain down his computer screen in a victorious cascade for the what felt like the 38th time, police officer Jack Reuben rolled his chair away from his desk and sighed.

"You know...I'm all for a perfect world with no crime and all...but man is this night boring."

"Heh, we're doing too good of a job. Maybe we should ask the commissioner for a raise ?" replied another officer passing in front of his desk with a warm cup of coffee.

"Good one, gumshoe. You go first and I'll get the body bag ready."

Just two days ago they were all running around town, half of them on overtime, because of that stupid solar storm. Now that the hysteria had died down, things were the quietest they had been since Reuben became an officer. Galloway just chuckled and headed for the garage, his shift over.

The door of the precinct swung open. A pale-looking lady in handcuffs followed by a police officer he recognized as Tessa McKinley

"Hey Tess." greeted Reuben.

"Hey Reub. Mind clocking this lady in ?" Tess returned.

"Sure. Not like I have anything better to do..."

Opening a program on his computer, he grabbed the cell keys in his drawer, giving them to his colleague which in turn, handed him her notepad.

A few minutes after he started punching in all the details, Officer Tess came back and sat to her desk, next to his.

"Whew, glad my shift's over. This one was a handful," she sighed.

"Yeah?" asked Reuben, still absent-mindedly typing away.

"I'll have to get the doc to examine her. She called us because someone abducted her baby."

Reuben raised a brow. "So ?"

"So, she lives on the 10th story of her building, her door was locked, the janitor was up all night in the main hall removing some graffiti and absolutely nobody showed up."

"They could have used a fire exit" proposed Reuben.

"There weren't any on her side of the building. But wait, I'm not done yet. Wanna know what made my crazy-o-meter go through the roof ?"

"Go on, surprise me..."

"That lunatic said her baby got abducted by...what was it now ? Oh yes... some sort of demonic spider-fox robot. A real basket case I tell you... If she does have a baby, she probably just divorced, lost the custody, took one too many happy pills and now she's bordering schizophrenia. Wouldn't be the first time. I'll check her file just in case."

Reuben had stopped typing the moment he heard the word "robot". His hands were already sweating.

"A...demonic...spider-fox...robot, you say ?"

"Yep, why not a sassy mecha-chicken while we're at it ?"

"I forgot you're new here" replied Reuben.

"What does that mean ?" asked Tess.

"Bring her here, please. I need to talk to her."

"Seriously ?"

"Do it, please."

While her rather confused looking colleague got up and walked towards the cells, officer Reuben feverishly typed the woman's address into his computer and his worse fear came into being. She was living right next to an old Freddy Fazbear Pizza. No. It was THE old Freddy Fazbear Pizza. Where he and his colleague, Officer Galloway, arrested a child murderer at large for several years. After a few more keystrokes, an old archived poster slowly came out of his printer. On it were the words "ROCK !", "EAT !", "PARTY !" and "PLAY !". Under the last one, a rather creepy-looking animatronic fox was smiling, exposing two sets of menacing teeth.

* * *

After making her way to the top of the building, Mangle saw a row of dark, inclined and weirdly reflective panels. She decided to huddle under one of them. At least they would be safe from the rain if any were to come. She reported her attention to the crying child she was holding.

"Sh-sh-sh-sh-shhh...It's okay, darling, I-I'm here" she muttered with a motherly voice, while gently rocking the baby back and forth in her arms. With a free hand, she grabbed her own ear and turned it a few times. The soothing, "Grandfather Clock" song began playing. She gently hummed along, noticing her voicebox had almost recovered the quality of her pristine days. After a few minutes, her little angel was calm again. Unable to see her new caretaker, she grasped at thin air until eventually getting a hold of Mangle's nose. Squeezing it in her tiny hand let out the trademark honking sound of the Fazbear line of animatronics. The baby burst into laughter and pressed her nose several more time. Mangle smiled. She still had it in her. Reaching in the depths of the blankets, she got out the milk bottle that noisy woman was carrying earlier. She definitely made the right choice getting this poor child away from that irresponsible adult. She was sure of it. As her little angel chugged down her meal, the robot pressed her nose softly to the little forehead.

* * *

Tess led the woman back to Reuben's desk where he sat with his colleague's write-up and all of the woman's information.

"Hello, Mrs..." he checked the papers in front of him, "Harris."

"It's 'Ms.'," the woman replied automatically.

"Right, sorry, _Ms._ Harris. Can I call you Patricia?" the woman nodded, "I'm Officer Jack Reuben, I'd like to talk to you about a... kidnapping?"

"Have you found her!?" Patricia asked, her entire expression pleading for the affirmative. Reuben set his jaw and shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, ma'am," he replied, "but I would like you to help us look. You described the kidnapper as a, and I quote, 'demon spider-fox,' could you elaborate?" Patricia crossed her arms and stepped back, frowning.

"You don't believe me," she said, "you're just trying to see if I'm crazy. Well I'm _not_ crazy! My baby was taken by... by... by a _monster!_"

Reuben raised his hands to chest level.

"Patricia, please, calm yourself. I believe you more than you realize, I just have to clarify a few things to confirm a few of my own suspicions. Now then, what did this thing look like _exactly?_" Reuben pulled out his notepad and pen in preparation. Patricia looked down, trying to remember.

"Well... I only saw it for a split second, when a car drove by, but... it was... metal, and long and slender, like a snake, but with a bunch of arms and its head was... white, yes, white with bits of pink, and it had all these teeth," Patricia related, "it was awful!"

Reuben nodded as his heart sank. He _hated_ being right.

"I see... Does this match?" he unclipped the picture he printed out, handing it to the woman. She nodded immediately.

"Yes, yes, that's it!" she exclaimed, "What is it? What does it want with my baby?"

"I don't know, but I'll find out. I think it might be best for you to stay in the station. Go talk to Sergeant Polk, up front, he can help you," Reuben directed.

"O-okay," Patricia said, "But please, _hurry!_"

Reuben nodded and headed for his squad car parked out front, stopping by his locker to grab his radio and gun belt. He checked his equipment quickly, and keyed his microphone, contacting dispatch.

"Reuben, badge twelve-forty-seven, investigating kidnapping claim," he reported.

"_Acknowledged. Good luck, officer,_" dispatch replied.

Reuben sighed as he climbed into the driver's seat. He _really_ hated being right.

* * *

Reuben pulled his squad car into the parking lot of what had been a Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, taking in the dirty exterior.

"Just like I remember it," he muttered, climbing out of his vehicle. Looking behind him and across the street, he saw the apartment complex Patricia lived in. Reuben jogged across the street and into the lobby, stepping into the elevator and hitting the button for the tenth floor. He quickly found her apartment, door left wide open from the terrified mother's frantic escape. Not sure what to expect from the animatronic perpetrator, Reuben drew his gun, but kept it aimed at the floor as he stepped inside.

The living room and kitchen area were left untouched, but the open door to what looked like the baby's room sat just next to it. Patricia had told Tess that the thing had escaped, but Reuben still entered cautiously, turning on the light. Looking around, he could see that the room was a disheveled mess, blankets torn from the bed, a few scattered toys, and books that sat on a shelf near the window had been knocked to the floor.

"Well, that has to be our entrance," Reuben muttered, holstering his handgun. He crossed over to the window and studied it closely, noticing a large chip on the wooden frame, and a what looked like a claw mark on the wall to the side. Similar small divets were visible on the ceiling as well, stopping just over the crib before apparently heading back out the window.

"Now the real question," Reuben murmured to himself, "where did you go?" He stuck his head out the window, pulling out his flashlight and shining it on the wall just outside. At first, it seemed as if the trail had gone cold, but a very shallow replica of the marks on the ceiling had been etched evenly up the brick, as if something had been stuck into it. It seemed to lead to the roof.

Reuben quickly dashed out of the apartment, storming up the staircase towards the roof before slowly easing the metal door closing it off open. The top of the building was very dark, with solar panels and air conditioning units all serving as ample hiding spots. Reuben drew his weapon and flashlight, searching every dark alcove and cranny, until he suddenly heard what sounded like creepy humming. He followed the sound to a set of solar panels, and when his flashlight beam reflected off of a mass of metal and illuminated a white and pink face and a bundle of blankets, Reuben knew he had found the kidnapper. He wasted no time.

"SURRENDER THE BABY ! NOW !"

Cries came out of the pile of blankets as the baby looked up and finally saw Mangle's harshly lit maw. The robot looked at him and its eyes turned to red just like the woman described earlier.

"You scar_RRZT_red her too...Wh-what in the name of Fazbach is it with adults-s-s being so loud and irresponsible today ?"

"You're the one scaring her for god's sake !"

"N...No... You're wrong !" Mangle replied hesitantly. "That crazy woman scared my little angel earlier. I had to get us away from her. I was the one who calmed her down." She tried to comfort the baby again, but now that she was able to see the real face of her caretaker, she kept trashing and kicking, visibly terrified by the sight. Mangle's ears slowly dropped in defeat. She looked again at the man, with a pleading look on her face.

"Please...It's been s-s-s-so long since...since I've last had...a purpose...Don't take this away from me. I'm b-b-begging you...I can take good care of her...I swear..."

"Listen, I'm not sure what your story is but no matter what, nothing can justify abducting a child. Ever. Now give me the baby," Reuben ordered.

The robot's head twitched furiously. This wasn't what she wanted. She went through all the escape scenarios she could think of as fast as her overheating CPU would allow her to. She kept replaying the last few hours in her head to check and double-check she had done everything by the book of her programming, she COULDN'T just let her little angel go away. She NEEDED her. Then, among this digital blind panic, a noise pierced through the madness. A noise she dreaded down to the very depth of her circuits. A noise that made her main program purge the scrambled data away from her memory. Somewhere nearby, a baby was crying. And something needed to be done about it.

The twitching stopped.

"I guess they left us to rot there for a reason after all...I'm sorry, my little angel." Mangle said as the child continued to crawl.

Carefully, Mangle crawled towards Officer Reuben, who recoiled slightly. One of her arms twitched, causing her to fall come down hard on her chin. Reuben rushed over, and was relieved to find she had kept the child safe with her other limbs. She delicately handed the still scared baby to him and stood there, staring at the ground.

"What happens now ?" she asked.

"Well you're a machine. Can't arrest nor prosecute a machine. I've dealt with the likes of you more times than I would have liked to. I know you didn't mean harm. Promise me that you won't attempt any of this ever again. If you do, you might not have a second chance." Reuben replied, awkwardly trying to comfort the child in his arms.

"I..."

Her voice box trailed off,

"I promi-_wyrrrzzzz_THREE_zzzztktt_NINE_ttttr_FIVE_trzzzztttkkrrrrzzz_," static pierced through her speech.

"You... alright, there ?"

"_Wrrrr_SEVEN_zzzzkkz_ZERO_tttzzktzt_FOURkk_wuiiiiiirtzk,_" came the garbled reply.

Her head dropped in defeat. Broken again. She sadly nodded to Reuben, and headed towards the edge of the roof. Without looking back, she squeezed her nose one last time, letting out its signature honk, and the baby stopped crying. 6AM was just about to hit when she came out of the dropped ceiling. She rolled up again in her dark spot in Kids Cove. She needed some time offline.

* * *

After a few days spent at her parent's home, recovering from all those crazy events, Patricia unlocked the front door to her apartment. An old and rather large man followed her inside, carrying her baby in his wide arms. After giving back his grand-daughter, the man opened a duffel bag he had been carrying on his shoulder. Out of it came a heavy crowbar. He quietly made his way across the apartment, checking each and every room. Lastly, he slowly opened the door to the baby's room and checked every nook and cranny.

"The cost is clear !" he called.

Patricia joined him in the bedroom, carrying her sleeping daughter in her arms.

"Thanks for coming with me, dad."

"No problem dear. I brought some tools over. I can seal that window if you want."

"Thanks, dad but I don't think my landlord would be very happy about it. Plus that police officer assured me this wouldn't happen again."

"Okay, your call I guess...But...About that...What exactly did happen ?"

"I'm still not quite sure to be honest. Everything was so surreal... it seems like it was all a dream."

"Well...I better get going. Take care of the both of you and call us if you need anything, alright ?"

"I will. Thanks dad."

After kissing her father goodbye, Patricia, went to put her daughter to bed. When she laid her down, a weird crumply sound came out of the bedsheets. She dug out a piece of paper out of them. It was a handwritten note that she didn't recognize. The paper was guideless yet the lines were all perfectly parallel to each other, each letter written with what looked like mechanical precision.

_To the mother. _

_I apologize for scaring you and your little angel. I've been stuck in Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, just nearby, for decades, and when I heard your child crying, I had to do something. I now realize I was wrong, and malfunctioning, and I hope you forgive me. I was malfunctioning, and not in the right state. I'm sorry. _

_Take care of your angel._

After reading it, she thoughtfully looked out the window, at that old decrepit building down the street she never paid any attention to before.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza..." she muttered.

* * *

_**A/N: I'm not sure if this is REALLY an "Author's" Note, but... So for those that weren't aware, I messed up transferring files to my new computer, and I lost ALL of my work. I lost what I was working on (2 Night Seven updates and a Fazbear's Fright update) as well as all of the Master Copies of my other stories. Bummer. But, like I said above, I found this one-shot's ghost of a file (corrupted), and it reminded me that this was acquired using a dropbox, so I could still get it. Thanks to Jimmy for submitting this to me, I thought it was really cute, and an interesting take on our favorite dilapidated fox. Thanks for sticking with me for all this, and as always, have a good one!**_

_**-DeltaV **_

_**"Jack Reuben: Super Cop"**_


	6. The Freddy Fazbear Show, by Yankovic270

_**The Freddy Fazbear Show**_

_**Premise by: Yankovic270**_

_**Altered Slightly by: Me**_

_**Cartoon by ArmChairGeneral45**_

**Fazbear Entertainment Conference Room, 1984**

* * *

Henry J. Fazbach, owner and chief executive officer of Fazbear Entertainment LLC, wore a calm expression as he sat at the head of the conference table. The restaurant the company headed had been doing exceptionally well, now that the disaster that was the first restaurant was behind them. Everyone loved the animatronics, the food, and the fun. Mr. Fazbach believed that now would be a good time to try and expand the Freddy Fazbear name into other areas, to try and increase brand awareness. So he gathered the company's investors and executives to inform them of his idea. He regarded the men and women in front of him from behind his folded hands, giving him an intelligent air, but the childish glint that hid behind the trimmed and proper exterior showed the boyish excitement and pride he had with his company.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "As I'm sure you can tell, we've become very successful with our restaurant. I believe it's time we expand." Immediately, one of the executives, Greg Clarkson, stood, a smile on his face.

"Sir, I'm honored that you approve of my plan for the next restaurant, and I hope tha-" he stopped when Fazbach raised a hand, small smile on his face.

"Mr. Clarkson, that is not what I'm suggesting," he said, "Please be seated." Clarkson did so.

"No, I mean we should expand into something other than restaurants, which is why I propose to-," Fazbach was interrupted again by Joyce Harkfort, the new head of the Animatronics Division.

"So you want to approve my plan for new animatronic development? I already have several characters in mind, and this idea for wearable-," she, too was stopped mid-conversation by a raised hand.

"Please, let me finish before you all jump to conclusions. No, Mrs. Harkfort, I do not mean that," Fazbach said, "I propose we create an animated feature. A cartoon, if you will."

A silence settled over the table, until slowly, Greg started to chuckle. It quickly grew into full on laughs. Fazbach quirked an eyebrow. "Something humorous, Mr. Clarkson?"

"No, no, I, I just..." Greg cleared his throat to stifle a laugh, "_Cartoons?_ Really?"

"Yes," Fazbach replied simply. Greg studied the older man's face for any hint that he was joking. He found none.

"My God, you're serious," he said quietly. Joyce cleared her throat.

"Um, sir, do you really think that a _cartoon_ is the wisest investment?" she asked.

"Indeed," Fazbach replied, leaning back in his chair, "I truly believe we have created wonderful characters, ones that children adore and want to hear stories of. And while I love them dearly, the animatronics won't be getting into any fanciful misadventures. So why not delve into the realm of fantasy for a while?"

"I suppose," Joyce said, rubbing her chin, "But who will make it?"

"I've already contacted a private animation company," Fazbach replied, "They're quite interested."

"And producing?"

"Us, of course."

"What about voice acting? We didn't need them, remember?" Joyce pointed out.

"Simple. They'll voice themselves," Fazbach answered, "Any other questions?" The room remained silent. "Well then, meeting adjourned. I'd also like to encourage the other board members to speak up. Stop letting Mr. Clarkson and Mrs. Harkfort do all the talking. Good day."

* * *

Fazbach rose from his chair, grabbed his hat, and with a polite nod walked out of the board room. Greg turned to Joyce.

"So who do you think he hired?"

"Daniel, I've just gotten off the phone with Fazbear Entertainment, they accepted our propos- what are you doing?" Joseph MacDonald asked opening the door to their shared animation studio. His co-founder and business partner, Daniel Voss, had a large knife stabbed into a watermelon.

"Hey Joe. Just carving my Melon O' Lantern," he replied.

"What?"

"Melon O' Lantern," Daniel replied, "You know, like for Halloween?"

"It's August."

"Yes. That's why I'm using a watermelon," Daniel said, and yanked the knife out, "So what's up?"

Joseph and Daniel had started their animation company, Ambitious Animations, two years ago. It had been Joseph's idea, and he had originally brought Daniel onboard as a writer. Starting a studio wasn't easy (or cheap), however, and as of right now the only permanent staff was the two of them. Joseph was a talented artist and businessman, handling the actual animation as well as keeping the studio afloat. Daniel did the writing, as well as voice acting when their contracts didn't provide them with actors. They had managed to secure a few commercials, but wanted something bigger. When they heard that the local pizzeria Freddy Fazbear's was looking into an animated feature as part of its marketing, Joseph jumped at the chance.

"That's really weird, Dan," Joseph said, traces of a Scottish accent betraying his heritage, before snatching the knife out of Daniel's hand, "Do you have those script drafts done yet?"

"Uh..." Daniel began, "Well..."

"You don't, do you?"

"It's just that I... I've been busy, and..." Daniel sighed in defeat, "No. No I didn't."

Joseph let out a sigh of his own.

"I told you about them months ago! How long do I have to pester you to get you to get work done?" he scolded, "How much longer?"

"I dunno..." Daniel replied meekly.

"Alright, just get 'em done," Joseph scolded, accent trickling in more, "Now c'mon, we're meeting with some people at the restaurant."

"Can we take your car?" Daniel asked.

"Why not yours?"

"It's out of gas, and I haven't gotten around to siphoning more out of your tank," Daniel explained.

"...Right. I'm going to forget I heard that," Joseph said. Daniel nodded.

"It'd benefit both of us."

"Let's just go."

The two men exited the building, Joseph locking the door behind him.

* * *

Meanwhile, Mr. Fazbach surprised the restaurant staff by walking through the front door fifteen minutes after closing up for the day. Nathan looked up from his journal, having decided to spend the day with his charges.

"Oh, Mr. Fazbach sir!" he greeted, standing up and wiping his hands on his coveralls before extending them out to shake, "What a surprise!"

"Hello Mr. Grymes," Fazbach returned warmly, shaking the mechanic's hand, "How is the band?"

"You can ask them yourself," Nathan replied, and cupped his hands to his mouth, "Guys! Mr. Fazbach is here!"

After a few moments, Freddy emerged from Backstage. He smiled as he stepped off, crossing over to the two men.

"Mr. Fazbach, a pleasure!" the bear said, doffing his hat.

"Likewise, Mr. Fazbear," Fazbach returned, doffing his own hat. They both chuckled. Bonnie walked into the Dining Area from the East Hall, face lighting up (almost quite literally) upon seeing her creator.

"Hi boss!" she greeted happily, practically bouncing up to the CEO.

"Hello Bonnie," he said, opening his arms for a hug and barely reaching around her large torso, "It's so good to see you." Chica walked in from the Kitchen, a box in her hand.

"Oh, hey," she said, raising a hand, "Got some pizza if you want it."

"No, thank you my dear, but I'm fat enough as it stands," Fazbach said, patting his slightly sunken gut. Chica shook her head, grinning. The man looked like a stick in a suit. He looked around. "Now where did Foxy get to?"

"Probably in Pirate's Cove," Nathan answered before cupping his hands to his mouth, "Foxy! Get out here!"

"I 'eard ye tha firs' time, lad," Foxy replied, striding out from the curtains, "Jus' 'ad ta put me chest away," he turned to Fazbach, "Ahoy, there, mate! Wha' brings ye to these waters?"

"I'm quite glad you asked. I have some exciting news. We're making a _cartoon_," Fazbach said.

Nathan and the animatronics looked at each other with puzzled looks.

"A what?" Chica asked.

"A cartoon. Moving drawings, children love them! Just imagine being able to take your show home, to watch it over and over again!" Fazbach explained.

Bonnie's eyes widened in awe.

"That sounds amazing!" she gasped.

"Indeed! The gentlemen are on their way as we speak. I know it is a bit short notice, but they were adamant in meeting you all," Mr. Fazbach said, looking at his watch, "Hrm. Late. Well, I suppose it can't be helped." Nathan stepped forward.

"Sir, forgive me if I'm being forward, but uh... how much do these guys know about the whole sentience thing?" the mechanic asked.

"Very little, I imagine. I sent a letter describing what to expect, but I doubt they understand how truly special you all are," Mr. Fazbach replied.

"Oh stop it you," Chica said, putting an arm around the man's shoulder . Fazbach chuckled.

"If you insist," he replied, patting the chicken's arm, "But enough about me, how are all of you?"

Chica shrugged, "Can't complain. Gus and Sal have been teaching me more, and the kids still love us."

"Wonderful," Fazbach commented, and turned to Freddy, "And you, Mr. Fazbear?"

"Everything has been going smoothly, no incidents, and like Chica said, the children are happy," Freddy reported. Fazbach looked to Bonnie.

"Fantastic, sir!" she said simply with a large smile. Foxy nodded in agreement.

"Aye, tha lil' ones be havin' a grea' time," he said.

"Excellent, excellent. Anything I need to know about, Mr. Grymes?" Fazbach asked.

"Actually, sir, since you asked..." Nathan dug into a pocket, pulling out a small notebook and flipping through it, "I've noticed some issues after shutting these guys down at night. Their joints are starting to lock up, and I'm worried it'll get worse."

Fazbach nodded, "I'll look into it."

"Also there's the whole matter of Foxy's aggression," Nathan reminded. Foxy looked away guiltily, ears lowering. Fazbach frowned.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid it isn't something we can just program away. The learning programming develops on its own, creates its own paths, things of that sort. If we could 'fix' this aggression, we would risk damaging other parts of his system trying to control it," Fazbach explained.

"So he's stuck with it?" Nathan asked.

"To put it bluntly. You'd have to help him overcome it, like any sentient being. It's passed the programmable stage at this point. I do admit, I hadn't expected such rapid growth, so bugs like this are understandable." Fazbach looked to Foxy. "But it shouldn't be the cause of any concern. I trust Foxy's judgment, I'm sure he'll learn to control it." Foxy perked up slightly.

"Now, about this cartoon?" Nathan prompted.

"Oh, yes, of course! Misters Voss and MacDonald wanted to use your actual voices, so I arranged a little meeting. They'll be discussing the specifics of what needs to be done. Mr. Grymes, I hope you'll stay on to help? With pay, of course," Fazbach said, and clasped his hands behind his back, "I'd stay longer, but I've just enough time for a quick welcome, then I must be getting home to Mrs. Fazbach."

"Absolutely, sir," Nathan replied.

"That's a sport," Fazbach praised.

"Thank you for stopping by," Freddy told the man politely.

"It's no trouble, no trouble at all," Fazbach replied, waving his hand dismissively, "I wish I could more often, but I seem to be awfully busy these days."

The group waited for several more minutes, but no one arrived. Mr. Fazbach checked his watch again, frowning slightly, before shaking his head. He detested people that weren't punctual. They waited in silence for a few more moments until the sound of an engine roaring sounded, getting closer and closer before turning into the sound of squealing tires.

* * *

Outside, a compact sedan slid into the parking lot, tires screaming as a thick white cloud of tire-smoke pursued it. The car skidded to a halt haphazardly into a parking space. The second it did, a modestly dressed man burst out the passenger side, throwing his head over a planter as he threw up the contents of his stomach. He straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, face drained of color.

By this point Nathan and Mr. Fazbach had run outside at the commotion, and they took in his appearance. His hair was short and clean cut, giving a very professional air, as did his wardrobe. A stylish black sport coat over a maroon collared shirt with black slacks and smart-looking shoes. His clean shaven face also betrayed his youth, as the man looked like he just finished college, younger than even Nathan. The man sat on the curb, taking deep breaths as another man climbed out of the driver's side.

The other man looked a lot less clean-cut, wearing a brown leather bomber jacket over a white t-shirt, faded blue jeans, and brown boots. Aviator sunglasses hung on his shirt, which was odd considering it was well after 8:00 at night. He tossed a set of car keys at the first man. He ran a hand through his hair, which while short was spiked in the front, giving his look just a touch of roguishness.

"See? Told you I could get it to slide," he said confidently. The first man glared at him.

"I didn't say you couldn't, I said you _shouldn't!_" he argued, a Scottish accent buried in the edge of his voice, and rose shakily to his feet. The driver shrugged. The first man shot him another scathing look, before turning and spotting Nathan and Mr. Fazbach. He quickly dusted himself off, dug furiously through his pockets and withdrawing a stick of gum, which he popped into his mouth to cover up the smell of vomit. He strode over purposefully, extending a hand out to shake. The second man loped casually behind him.

"Joseph MacDonald, head of Ambitious Animations," he said, "My... partner is Daniel Voss."

"Hello," Daniel greeted, before unzipping a pocket on his jacket and retrieving a deck of cards, staring around absent-mindedly as he fiddled with them. This earned another glare from Joseph, before putting on a bright smile and turning back to Nathan and Mr. Fazbach, who watched with bemused expressions.

"I just wanted to thank you so much giving us the opportunity to-," he began.

"Hey, you want to see a card trick?" Daniel asked, and without waiting for an answer walked up to Mr. Fazbach with the cards fanned out in one hand. "Pick a card, any card!"

Genuinely interested, Mr. Fazbach reached for one, sliding it out and looking at it. Joseph laughed nervously.

"Ahem, could you excuse us, please?" he asked, before smacking he cards out of Daniel's hand and dragging him off to the sides. Fazbach and Nathan jumped at the sudden action, and watched the cards flutter to the ground.

"Hey!" Daniel complained.

"_Shut up!_" Joseph hissed, "Are you kidding me with this crap? These guys just hired us to do a job, and you're embarrassing us."

"I'm not embarrassing anybody," Daniel replied neutrally before calling over his shoulder to Nathan and Fazbach, "Four of Clubs, by the way!" Mr. Fazbach turned the card he still held onto face up, revealing said card. Fazbach nodded appreciatively. Joseph turned Daniel around.

"Knock it off! This is our first big contract in months, quit blowing it!" he said, "Or I'll fire you!"

"Again?" Daniel asked.

"Yes _again. _And I won't hire you back," Joseph replied.

"This is because of your house, isn't it?"

"You set my living room on fire!"

"It was an experiment!" Daniel defended.

"In what?"

"Furniture flammability," Daniel replied, "You should be ashamed, you failed miserably."

"I should be ashamed? Who sets someone's house on fire?" Joseph asked.

"Someone who doubts furniture quality." Joseph fumed even more at the retort.

"I've had it up to here wit' yer bullshite, ye goddamn _twit_," he said in a dangerously low voice, "Get yer ac' togethar, we need this job!"

"You're turning Irish again," Daniel pointed out.

"_I'm Scottish!_"

"Um, gentlemen?" Mr. Fazbach asked. Joseph whirled around, forced smile on his face.

"Sor'y abou', -ahem-, _sorry about_ that," he said.

"There some sort of problem?" Nathan asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"No, no, no' at all!" Joseph replied quickly, accent fading, "Is it okay if we start the tour now?"

Mr. Fazbach smiled. "Of course, follow me."

"I suppose being a bit familiar with our 'style', so to speak, would be helpful, so here is the main Dining Area. Really captures the tone of Freddy Fazbear's, doesn't it?" Mr. Fazbach said proudly, hands clasped behind his back.

"It certainly does, Mr. Fazbach," Joseph readily agreed, "Right, Daniel?" He looked over at his partner, only to find him donning one of the many party hats sitting on the tables.

"Oh, yeah, totally. How many of these do you think I could wear at a time?" he asked. Joseph sighed, and turned to Mr. Fazbach.

"So how long have you been in business?" he asked.

"Just a few years," Mr. Fazbach replied dismissively, checking his watch, "Goodness, I really must be going. I'm leaving them in your capable hands, Mr. Grymes! Have a pleasant tour."

"Thank you, sir, you have one as well!" Joseph returned, and watched the man leave, not noticing he was chuckling at his nervous mistake. The instant Fazbach stepped out of the building, he rounded on Daniel. The man had numerous party hats strapped to his head, pointing in odd directions and covering his eyes and mouth, finishing squeezing another onto the back of his head.

"I'm starting to think the limit is around eight or nine," Daniel observed, voice muffled, "I cannot breathe." Nathan stared.

"Is he... _okay?_ Like, mentally?" he asked Joseph, who sighed in contempt.

"_Unfortunately_," he muttered under his breath, before forcefully adding, "Oh, he's just... getting a handle on your restaurant's personality. Creative process and all that."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Daniel suddenly exclaimed, grabbing blindly for a hat and succeeding on squeezing it into one of the last pieces of real estate on his head. "_Ten._ Ten is the max. One more great mystery solved."

A small laugh turned all three men's attention towards the Show Stage, Daniel taking off the two party hats that covered his eyes. The curtains had been opened, and Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica sat motionless on the stage. Nathan put his thumbs in his pockets and chuckled.

"Well, cover's blown now, guys. Go on and say hello," he said. Joseph watched in amazement as the robots each nodded and stepped off the stage. The bear approached first, politely tipping his hat.

"Hello, my name is Freddy Fazbear," he said cheerfully.

"Uh, h-hello," Joseph greeted nervously, shrinking away from the large animatronic slightly. The purple rabbit strode up to stand next to the bear, grinning broadly.

"Hi! I'm Bonnie, and this is Chica!" she said, gesturing to the yellow chicken that lagged behind.

"Hey," Chica greeted, giving a half-wave. Joseph and Daniel stood in silence for a few moments, before Daniel walked up to the three robots, having taken off the many part hats, pushing Joseph off to the side.

"Daniel Voss," he said, extending a hand out to shake. Freddy shook it gently while Bonnie used it to pull the man into a hug.

"It's nice to meet you," he said evenly as he was released from the crushing hug. Bonnie smiled. Daniel looked over to Chica next, who stood with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm not gonna hug ya," she said.

"That's fine," Daniel replied, copying her pose. They stared at each other with similar bored expressions for several moments. Joseph cleared his throat and they all turned.

"I'm Joseph, I'll be in charge of this little project," he said. The animatronics nodded in acknowledgement as Bonnie looked around the room.

"Wait a minute, where's Foxy?" she asked.

"Foxy?" Joseph asked.

"Aye?" a gruff voice asked, walking through a set of curtains hanging over a doorway sitting off to the side. Nathan gestured to the fox animatronic as he walked up to the group.

"And now, timely as ever, Foxy the pirate," Nathan introduced. Foxy gave the mechanic a sour look before grinning at the two men.

"Ahoy there," he greeted, "My name be Foxy, who be ye?"

"Uh, J-joseph," Joseph replied.

"I thought you were a chick," Daniel said. Chica snickered. Foxy's eyes widened.

"Wha'?" he asked.

"Well, I mean, Foxy's a girl's name, isn't it?"

"_It is no'_!" Foxy protested. Chica laughed again. Joseph elbowed Daniel in the ribs.

"Don't antagonize them," he hissed. Daniel nodded.

"Sorry, my bad," Daniel apologized. Foxy crossed his arms and looked away, muttering something under his breath. Daniel smiled. He liked Foxy.

"So you're the guys making the cartoon?" Bonnie asked. Joseph nodded.

"For the most part," he replied, "I'm head designer and animator and Daniel here is our head writer. We'll be bringing on extra staff for actual production, however. We also have a proposition for you."

Freddy and the others exchanged surprised looks.

"A proposition?" he asked. Joseph nodded.

"Yes. We'd like you all to voice yourselves," he replied. Freddy nodded.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Fazbach had already explained that."

"We've already planned around the whole sentience thing," Daniel added, "We can pay you in oil or whatever it is you guys like."

"_Gold!_" Foxy shouted, raising his hook into the air.

"Spanish or South American?" Daniel asked seriously.

"We'll figure all of that out _later_," Joseph said, "But for now, I'd like to do a few composite sketches of you all, just some basic stuff as we figure out how to draw you."

"Just make sure to get my good side," Chica said, stepping forward. Joseph smiled.

"Certainly," he replied, opening his briefcase and pulling out a large sketch pad and a pencil. Joseph pulled out a chair and dragged up to the foot of the stage, sitting in it and supporting his pad on his knee. He gestured for Chica to get on the stage. "If you please," he requested, unbuttoning his coat and hanging in on the back of the chair and rolling his sleeves up.

Chica smirked at the formality and climbed up on the stage, shaking her head slightly. Joseph didn't notice as he began to seriously study the animatronic. His pencil began to dance across the pad, scratching lightly as it moved. Nathan shifted awkwardly at the silence that fell as the animatronics watched curiously. Daniel entertained himself with attempting to balance a party hat on the tip of his finger. After a short silence, a mostly-complete sketch of Chica was on the blank pad, and Foxy fiddled with his hook idly. Daniel noticed.

"Bored?" he asked quietly.

"Aye," Foxy replied.

"Me too. Want to go do something?" Daniel asked. Foxy nodded enthusiastically.

"Aye, an' I know jus' tha place!" he said, grabbing Daniel by the hand and leading him into Pirate's Cove.

Bonnie had, by this point, moved to stand behind Joseph, watching in wonder as he turned a series of lines and marks into a striking sketch of Chica. It wasn't an exact match, possessing more cartoonish qualities that would be present in the show, but there was no mistaking the smirk. Joseph began to hum as he worked, and soon completed the sketch-work, adding a few notes before holding it up for approval.

"What do you think?" he asked. Chica walked forward and studied it.

"Yep, that's me," she said, "That's pretty good."

"That's amazing!" Bonnie gushed, "How do you do that?"

"Lots of practice, a little bit of schooling, but I mostly did it as a kid," Joseph explained, "I started with crayons and never looked back." Bonnie nodded, and turned to Nathan.

"Can we get crayons?" she asked. Nathan shrugged.

"Sure," he said, walking over to Joseph, "That's really good. I'll be blunt, I didn't really expect something like this." Joseph sighed.

"Yeah, Daniel does a fair job of messing up our first impressions," he admitted, "He is a fairly talented writer, though, when he does work. And his... quirks make for good cartooning." Nathan nodded.

"But you're _sure_ he doesn't have a mental thing?"

Joseph chuckled, "No, no, according to him, he's been tested. Yeah, everyone thinks the same thing, so I have to be the sane one." He tore the Chica sketch page off and readied his pencil over the new page. "So who wants to go next?"

"Me, me, me!" Bonnie exclaimed, bouncing on her toes slightly and nearly falling over. Joseph smiled warmly.

"All right, step right up!" he said, gesturing to the stage. Bonnie dashed onto it quickly, before standing motionless with a massive smile.

"Good," Joseph said, "Now just stay still." The pencil began scratching away again. Freddy glanced down at Nathan.

"This is exciting, isn't it?" the bear asked. Nathan shrugged.

"I guess so. I'm just worried that we might be getting a raw deal here. I'm not entirely sure these guys are for real," the mechanic replied. Freddy nodded in agreement, and at the robot's frown, Nathan added, "But the boss has faith in them, so I guess that counts for something." Freddy nodded once again.

"Bonnie certainly seems to enjoy it. Chica, too."

Nathan scoffed. "I'm sure she's loving all the attention." Freddy chuckled, and Nathan looked up at him.

"What about you, Freddy?" he asked. Freddy smiled.

"Like I said, this is very exciting. I'm looking forward to seeing the finished product," he replied.

Chica watched happily at Bonnie's barely contained excitement, and gave her a thumbs-up. Sarcastic as she may be, it definitely made her happy to see her best friend so excited. The instant Joseph put his pencil down, Bonnie had stepped off the stage and had the drawing in her hands.

"Look, Chica, it's me!" she said, holding the sketches up.

"Sure is. Looks great, Joey," Chica complimented. Joseph smiled, still amazed at the human-like personality he witnessed in the robots. Yes, their movements had a mechanical jerkiness to it, their faces weren't very expressive, and their voices sounded synthesized, but there was no mistaking the genuine emotion they possessed. Coupled with body language, it almost hid their robotic nature. The artist turned to Freddy.

"Looks like it's your turn," he said. Freddy smiled, but shook his head.

"Thank you, but I'm sure Foxy would want to do this next," the bear replied, "Wherever he may be."

"You might as well do it since you're here," Bonnie offered, "Foxy's probably off playing or something, and he won't want to stop."

Freddy nodded at the logic and stepped onstage. Joseph flipped to a blank page and began drawing intently. After several strokes, he suddenly paused, and looked around the room.

"Wait, where'd Daniel go?" Joseph asked.

* * *

"Captain! Spanish Navy off the port bow!" First Mate Daniel announced, staring through his spyglass. Up at the helm, Foxy cursed.

"Blast! Ready tha cannons, we be fightin' our way out!" Foxy ordered.

"Aye, sir!" Daniel replied crisply, adjusting the pirate hat on his head. After escaping the dreaded Dead Man's Caverns with a chest full of jewels in hand, the daring duo had boarded the _Red Fox_, with both the Navy and other pirates at their heels.

The First Mate dragged three chairs onto the pirate ship stage and flipped each one over so their legs sat in the air. In the space between the legs he wedged a bucket borrowed from the janitorial closet. The "cannons" now mounted, Daniel grabbed a broom, and mimed loading each one. After the last bucket-cannon was "loaded," he turned back to Foxy.

"Cannons ready!" he announced. Foxy nodded, and looked up, raising his hook hand to point out into the empty room.

"Tha ship be closin' in!"

Daniel's eyes went wide. "Should I fire, sir?"

"No, wai' ta fire!" Foxy barked. Daniel fidgeted, gripping the broom tightly. The Spanish ship grew closer and closer, turning to prepare a broadside. He gulped as the doors covering the cannon ports opened.

"Captain?" he asked nervously.

"Steady, lad," Foxy assured, giving the ship a steely gaze and raising his hook hand upwards.

The Spanish ship was practically on top of the _Red Fox_. Daniel, staying true to his part, nearly collapsed in fear.

"Captain!" he squealed.

"Fire!" Foxy roared, swiping his hook hand downward with a _swish_.

Daniel grasped the broom like a baseball bat, bristled end tucked under his armpit, and swung as hard as he could at the first bucket-cannon. A dull _WHUMP_ sounded as the hollow bucket acted like a drum. He jumped from bucket to bucket, giving a full three-cannon broadside. _WHUMP. WHU-CRACK!_ Foxy and Daniel froze as the broom handle struck the chair leg of the final makeshift cannon, and splintered, three inches of the end dangling on a single piece of wood.

"...Oops," Daniel said as the broken off piece clattered to the floor. He quickly cleared his throat, getting back into character. "Ship destroyed, Captain!"

"Ah-har!" Foxy cheered, "Well done, lad!"

At that moment, Chica walked through the doorway.

"Hey, Foxy, it's your turn to get dra- what are you doing?" she asked, staring at the scene in front of her. Foxy stood at the highest point on the stage, holding his prop ship's wheel (which was much too small) in his good hand while what's-his-name stood at the edge, holding a broken broom and wearing an ill-fitting pirate hat sat lopsided on his head. Three chairs with buckets on them were lined up in front of them both. Foxy spoke first.

"Yar, we be fightin' tha no good Spanish Navy, tha's wha' we be doin'!" he cheered, "Me firs' mate Daniel did a fine job of cannon-work."

"Thanks, Captain," Daniel replied. Chica blinked.

"_Riiiight_... Well, they want you two nutballs up front, so..." she gestured for them to get moving. Daniel shrugged and stepped offstage, ignoring the heavily rearranged furniture and the broken broom. Foxy, irritated that his fun had been interrupted, made a point of taking the time to put everything back before following the other two back into the Dining Area. Joseph and Nathan looked up from the artist's pad at their entrance.

"Daniel, there you are," Joseph said.

"Foxy, there you are," Nathan said at almost the exact same time. Joseph looked at Foxy as Nathan looked at Daniel.

"He didn't give you any trouble, did he?" the two men chorused. Daniel and Foxy shared a glance, before both shaking their heads.

"No' a' all," Foxy replied happily, "We 'ad a grea' time, righ' lad?"

"Aye," Daniel agreed in an rough imitation of Foxy's accent, "We be tha fierces' pira'es ye ever done laid eyes on!" The two shared a laugh. Nathan smiled in relief as Joseph shook his head.

"Good to hear," he said, and turned to Foxy, "We need to borrow you for a second so Joseph can get some sketches done," Nathan explained. Foxy shrugged.

"Alrigh'," he said. Joseph pointed to the stage

"If you could please stand onstage," he prompted.

Foxy stepped onto the Show Stage and waited, but it wasn't long before he began to fiddle with his hook disinterestedly. Joseph glanced up at the movement, but didn't say anything as he kept drawing. A short while later, the sketch was done, and Joseph turned it around for Foxy to inspect.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Foxy nodded, before turning to Daniel. "Looks grea', lad. Firs' mate Daniel, do ye wan' ta continue our li'tle adven'ure?" An excited grin spread across Daniel's face.

"Sure!" he agreed. The two were about to dash off together when Joseph stood up.

"I'm sorry, but we have to be getting back. It's late, and I want to save these pictures," he said. Daniel and Foxy moaned, disappointed.

"And you all need to charge," Nathan reminded, "Go on then, back to places."

The animatronics nodded in unison and strode to their respective spots. Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica stepped onto the Show Stage while Foxy headed towards Pirate's Cove, muttering something at low volume. Nathan turned to face Joseph.

"It was nice to meet you," he said, shaking the animator's hand.

"Likewise!" Joseph replied, returning the handshake. Nathan went over to Daniel, who had been watching Foxy leave.

"See you around?" he asked. Daniel shrugged.

"Probably. Hey, you're a mechanic, right?" the man asked.

"Yes..."

"Do you have a blowtorch?"

"Annd we're leaving," Joseph announced, pushing Daniel towards the front doors.

"Can we stop by the hardware store on the way back?" Daniel asked his friend.

"You do not need a blowtorch!" Joseph replied.

"No one _needs_ a blowtorch, but it could make certain tasks easier."

"No."

"Lighting candles, killing flies, scaring off door-to-door salesman..."

"_No!_"

Nathan watched the two arguing men exit the building before shrugging and heading off to make sure Foxy turned himself off.

* * *

Several days later, Joseph sat in the rented studio space, near the many tables and chairs, ready to greet the incoming staff. After securing the deal and getting some funding up front from Mr. Fazbach, Ambitious Animations found an available studio with which to work, it already possessing the resources necessary to animate the show. About two dozen temporary staff had been hired, mainly writers and animators to be presided over by himself and Daniel, although the latter seemed to have wanted to spend all of his time in the pizzeria. He brought his notes over there, but the possibility of him doing any actual work seemed slim to none.

Joseph sighed as he glanced at the clock on the wall. Daniel was late, once again. He looked up as the doors were pushed open, and was surprised to see Daniel stroll in, confident smile on his face. He took off his bomber jacket, hanging it on a doorknob, a _USS Iowa_ military ball cap on his head.

"Hi Joseph," he greeted.

"You're late," Joseph commented.

"Yep," came the short reply, "But I brought _these_."

He held up a portfolio completely stuffed with paper, and slapped it on a nearby table, spilling its contents. Joseph stared at the form.

"Are those...?" Joseph breathed, astonished.

"Completed script drafts, yes," Daniel said, nodding, "It took blood, sweat, and lots of duct tape, but here they are. And only five months late!" Joseph laughed.

"Better late than never. Wow, I'd say good job, but I'm still livid it took you so long," Joseph admitted, "But... thanks."

"Don't mention it," Daniel replied, nonplussed at the comment, and took off his hat. Joseph did a double-take.

"What the hell happened to your hair?" he asked. Daniel's hair had gone from brown to an almost rust-colored red.

"You like it? I dyed it the color of Foxy. He thought it was neat," Daniel said, running his hand through it, "I think it brings out the color of my eyebrows. Which I also dyed."

Joseph stared.

"It... it's... I..." he struggled, "Don't you think it's a little... _weird?_" Daniel looked up.

"Yes," he said flatly, his expression unreadable. And that was that. Joseph cleared his throat, trying not to look at Daniel's hair.

"Well, alright," he said, shaking himself out of the surprise, "What about those other drafts I asked for?" Daniel froze.

"They're... progressing..." he lied.

Joseph put his hands on his hips.

"Daniel..."

"Hey, look, people!" Daniel interrupted, pointing towards the doors to the studio.

Indeed, people had arrived, the hired staff beginning to trickle in. Daniel and Joseph stood at the front of the large room, waiting as the men and women found seats and chatted among themselves. By the time everyone had settled, they had already separated into their different fields, with the animators, writers, and other professions all grouped with similar specialists. A low murmur filled the room as the two men waited for all of the chairs to be filled. As soon as they were, Joseph took a few steps forward and cleared his throat, with Daniel trying to make himself look important behind him.

"Hello, ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Ambitious Animations! As you might recall, my name is Joseph MacDonald, and this is my business partner Daniel Voss," Joseph began. Daniel touched his fingertips to his temple in greeting. "Now, you've all been hired on to assist us with creating an animated series based on Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Joseph let the name hang in the air as he watched for any recognition. One man raised his hand.

"Who?" he asked. Joseph inwardly sighed.

"Freddy Fazbear's. It's a local pizzeria, and it's steadily gaining renown. They want to make a cartoon to sell in their gift shop and to help advertise the place," Joseph explained, "Now, our budget isn't huge, so we're not expecting Disney-level quality here. As of now I am the Animation Director while Mr. Voss is our Writing and Sound Director."

"I run a tight ship," Daniel interrupted, "I won't tolerate lollygaggers. Or ass-draggers. Or slobs. Or bums. Or degenerates. Or people that decide to slow down randomly in the middle of walking down a hallway because _Jesus I almost ran into you are you blind-?_"

"Yes, yes, that's enough," Joseph interjected, "Now then, you all know your roles. Let's get cracking, shall we?"

* * *

**Ambitious Animations Studio**

**Ten Months Before Deadline**

"Mr. MacDonald?" an animator asked, knocking on the door to Joseph's office.

"Yes? Come in," Joseph greeted, setting down the latest concept sketches.

"I wanted you to go over some of these designs," the animator said, setting down a few sheets of paper.

"Certainly! Let's take a look..." Joseph picked up the top sheet. He scanned it eagerly, but his face quickly fell.

"Tell me..." Joseph began, setting the paper down and looking the animator in the eyes. "Why do Bonnie and Chica have... breasts?"

"I thought that it would help differen-," the animator began.

"We are making a _children's _cartoon," Joseph said, "How is _this_ appropriate?"

"W-well, I-I, uh, y-you see, um," the animator stammered.

"Destroy these," Joseph ordered, "_Now._ Make anything like that for this cartoon again, and you're fired."

"Yes sir, right away!"

* * *

**Pirate's Cove - Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

**Nine Months (and One Week) Before Deadline**

"Nice hair, lad," Foxy said as his show ended.

"Thanks, thought it fit my new position as first mate," Daniel replied, adjusting the typewriter sitting on his lap. He clacked away at the keys. Foxy looked over with interest as the machine gave a _ding!_ and Daniel pushed the slide over.

"Wha' are ye up to?" Foxy asked.

"Fixing up a scene from the cartoon," Daniel replied.

"Can I help?"

"Sure. I'm sort of stuck. At this point, you, Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica are trying to stop this villain from stealing your business by offering this flashy 'future pizza,' and I thought a bake-off would be a good conclusion. You're all on a quest to get ingredients, but I'm not sure what to have you get," Daniel explained.

Foxy put his hook to his chin in thought, processing the idea for several minutes before shrugging.

"'M no' sure how ta help ya, mate," Foxy admitted, "Chica's tha one tha' knows abou' all tha pizza stuff."

"Alright, I'll just go ask her then," Daniel replied, standing up to leave. Not wanting his friend to leave, Foxy quickly added:

"But I know wha' an adventure be needin'!"

Daniel immediately sat down, hands poised over the typewriter.

"Firs' off ya need ta have a map..."

* * *

**MacDonald Residence**

**Five Months to Deadline**

Joseph sighed as Daniel fired another burst of foam from the fire extinguisher in his hands, their faces and clothes slightly blackened with soot. The flames had finally been put out, and the two slumped against a wall, exhausted. Daniel looked at Joseph.

"Like I said, your furniture is extremely flammable."

* * *

**Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

**Four Months to Deadline**

Joseph and Daniel sat in the Dining Area as the last of the staff left for the night. Four large stacks of paper sat on the table in front of them, the scripts for the cartoon. The duo looked up as Nathan walked over holding a staple gun in one hand.

"That should set you up. Hope that foam comes off easy. Phil might be upset that you guys took over his office, but that would be the best place to do the recording in," the mechanic said. Joseph rose and stuck out a hand.

"Thank you very much, we'll make the most of it. We'll get the recording system setup, and we'll bring the animatronics in one at a time to record their lines," Joseph explained. Nathan nodded in understanding and walked into the Dining Area where the Fazbear animatronics were gathered.

Joseph and Daniel quickly stepped inside the makeshift recording booth, plugging in and setting up a microphone and a recorder. A secondary console was squeezed into the space in the right hallway, next to the window, and the two machines were connected. Joseph manned it, having gotten a crash course from their audio technician in order to limit exposure to the animatronic's sentience. He keyed in a few commands and looked up at Daniel.

"Alright, let's give it a test," he said. Daniel picked up the microphone.

"Test, test, teeeeeeeeessssssst," Daniel said, before breaking into a rendition of "The Wheels on the Bus", "When I speak into the mic I go 'test, test, test; test, test, test!'" Joseph gave a thumbs-up.

"Sounds good," he announced.

"All through the town," Daniel finished, before stepping outside the office to go hang out with Foxy. Joseph cupped his hands to his mouth.

"We're ready for you!" he called down the hallway. Heavy, hurried footsteps could be heard as Bonnie excitedly walked towards the office.

"Hello!" she greeted happily. Joseph smiled and gestured inside.

"Go ahead and try out the microphone," he said. Bonnie lowered herself to be level with the mic before looking over at Joseph.

"What do I say?" she asked.

"Start with, um... 'Hi! I'm Bonnie, welcome to Freddy Fazbear's!'" Joseph guided.

"Hi! I'm Bonnie, welcome to Freddy Fazbear's!" Bonnie parroted. Joseph typed on the terminal.

"_Hi! I'm Bonnie, welcome to Freddy Fazbear's!_" sounded from the devices speaker.

"Okay, we're ready to get started," Joseph said, handing Bonnie the script, "I'll read for the other characters. Just say the lines like you were really talking to these people and feeling these emotions."

"I'll try," Bonnie replied, now a bit nervous.

"If you mess up, we can just try again, so don't feel too pressured," Joseph assured, "Okay, let's start from the beginning..."

* * *

**Show Stage - Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

**Two Months Before Deadline**

Chica rolled her eyes at the sound of chaos coming from Pirate's Cove. Next to her, Joseph cringed. Chica looked down at him.

"Don't worry about it, Foxy does this stuff all the time," she said.

"_You'll never take my gold!_" came Daniel's shouting.

"_Mutiny! Ye trai'or, I'll keelhaul ya!_" Foxy roared. The sound of chairs crashing around the room echoed through the quiet restaurant.

"It's not Foxy I'm worried about. So much for a quiet break," Joseph replied. Chica crossed her arms, but didn't comment. Another loud crash sounded, and Daniel burst through the curtains, holding Foxy's treasure chest in his arms and running flat-out into the Dining Area, stumbling under the weight. A loud metallic screech sounded from behind the purple drapes, and Foxy sprinted out soon after, eye patch lowered and hook raised.

"Ge' back here, ya mangy dog!" Foxy shouted, completely livid, "Tha' be _my_ chest!"

Tables and chairs were shoved aside as the pirate fox created the shortest path to his target, who was booking it down the West Hall as fast as his legs could move. From onstage, Freddy barely concealed a frustrated glare at the thought of putting the Dining Area right again as Bonnie looked on. The robot and man disappeared down the hallway.

"I thought they were friends," Joseph said.

"Foxy _is_ a pirate," Chica pointed out.

"_What the hell is going on!?_" Nathan demanded as he ran into the room from the restrooms, still putting on his belt, "I leave for five minutes, and it sounds like a war's going on in here."

At that moment, Daniel came running down the East Hall, still holding the chest but looking much more haggard, gasping for breath. Rapid, heavy footfalls sounding behind him sent him scurrying, shoving past Nathan, who tried to block him. Foxy came charging down a moment later, knocking the mechanic into a table.

"Give me my chest!" Foxy demanded, still in pursuit.

"Foxy!" Nathan scolded, chasing after the two trouble makers. Chica shook her head as Daniel lapped the Dining Area, before shouting out "Catch!" and tossing the treasure chest at Joseph. He barely caught it, the weight nearly knocking him over, before yelping as Foxy bore down on him. Reacting quickly, Joseph tossed the chest to Nathan, who also barely managed to avoid dropping it. Foxy immediately changed course.

"I don't want it!" Nathan shouted, and threw the chest at Daniel succeeding in knocking him over and spilling its contents across the floor. Foxy let out a scandalized screech and immediately began picking up the trinkets and fake gold. Chica regarded the scene for a moment before turning on a heel and walking away.

"Well, I'm off to the Kitchen," she announced.

"Seconded," Joseph called, following the chicken.

"Me too," Bonnie added.

"That sounds nice, actually," agreed Freddy, and followed the group through the large white doors.

* * *

**Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

**One Month Until Deadline**

"I can't do this," Joseph moaned, resting his head in his hands. Freddy, who was straightening chairs, quirked an eyebrow, echoing Nathan's confused look.

"What do you mean?" the bear asked.

"I have too little staff, too little time, the script's gone through dozens of rewrites, we _just_ finished up all of the voice acting, and my 'business partner' spends all his time with a robot fox!" Joseph complained, "How am I going to pull this off?"

Freddy honestly didn't know.

"I suppose you just have to work as hard as you can," Freddy suggested, "Anything can be achieved if you work hard enough at it."

"But I'm just one guy!"

Freddy nodded, "But as far as we're all concerned, you're the right one for the job." Joseph looked up.

"You really mean that?" he asked. Freddy smiled sincerely.

"Certainly. Look how much you've accomplished already. Those drawings you made were wonderful, and I imagine everyone else on your staff is just as talented," Freddy pointed out, "And it _is_ nice to have someone to talk to that's not Nathan or the children."

"You got that right!" Chica chimed in from the Kitchen entrance, where she had been listening. Joseph and Freddy shared a chuckle, the bear pushing a chair into place.

"Just understand that we have faith in you, as does Mr. Fazbach and Nathan," he said. Another chair was nudged flush with its table. "I'm sure you'll figure everything out."

Joseph sat back in his chair, pondering Freddy's words. It had certainly been relieving just to say his problems out loud. It made them real, something to overcome. The encouragement pushed his mind into overtime, and already ideas started to emerge inside his brain. He gave an appreciative smile to the animatronic bear.

"Thanks Freddy," he said.

"Not a problem, Joseph," the bear replied, pushing in the final chair, "If you need any more support, I'm sure Bonnie will hug you if you ask." The last part was accompanied by a sly grin. Heavy footsteps signaled another robot's entrance.

"I heard the word 'hug'!" Bonnie said, bubbly personality going full force, looking around for whoever had requested it.

"Freddy was just helping me out," Joseph explained.

"Just a little advice and encouragement," Freddy elaborated, "Joseph's worried he might fail at making the cartoon."

Bonnie crossed the room to Joseph in an instant, pulling him out of his chair and into one of her infamously tight hugs. "Aww, don't worry, it'll be great!"

The animator tried to reply, but found himself gasping instead.

"The kids are going to love it, and Mr. Fazbach's going to love it, and Nathan's going to love it," Bonnie continued, oblivious to Joseph's face slowly turning blue. Finally, he was released, taking a huge breath. Bonnie put his hands on his shoulders, bending down to be face to face. "Keep your spirits up!"

With the final word of support and other quick, crushing hug, Bonnie patted Joseph on the shoulder and began helping Freddy with setting the Dining Area back to order. Joseph's face returned to a more natural color, and sat in contemplative silence, aside from the scrapes and thumps of chairs being moved around. A few minutes later, Chica joined the group, depositing a small pizza box on the table.

"Here," she said, "Figured eating something might get your thinking juices flowing. Don't tell Nathan, alright?" She gave a conspiratory wink before evading Freddy's request for help.

Joseph ate half the pizza, and when it came time to leave, left a fuller, happier person than when he walked in.

* * *

**Freddy Fazbear's Pizza**

**Two Days After Deadline**

It had been a photo finish, but Ambitious Animations had lived up to their name. The cartoon was completed, and after compiling a serviceably watchable version, Joseph and Daniel brought it along with a projector into the pizzeria for a screening. Nathan enlisted Foxy and Freddy with clearing tables out of the way as he set up a makeshift projection screen out of a white tablecloth and the rigging of the Show Stage's curtains.

Chairs were placed for the human viewers, and Daniel's projector was setup on a table a far enough distance back. He fitted the bare reel, connected the audio track, and made sure they were synchronized. A quick test later, and Nathan had the lights off and sat with the animatronics surrounding him. Behind him, Daniel and Joseph sat to the side in order to watch their reactions. They had seen it far too many times, knowing it almost by heart. The projector clicked and flickered merrily as the reel began to pass in front of the shutter.

"Here we go!" Joseph announced.

* * *

**The Freddy Fazbear Show**

The cartoon opened on a town, sweeping through the streets as Freddy began to narrate.

"Hi there!" the voiceover greeted, "My name's Freddy Fazbear, owner of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza and leader of the Fazbear Band! We have lots of fun at my pizzeria, and I want to introduce you to some of my friends!"

The camera moved up to the pizzeria, passing through the front doors, revealing a bright, colorful interior full of happy animated kids and parents. It settled on a cartoon Freddy, who obviously lacked any robotic quality and was not much larger than a person, as he wove his way among the crowd carrying a pizza in each hand.

"There's me," Narrator Freddy said, "Working hard as usual!"

The camera swept over to show Bonnie, also not robotic nor as tall, playing her guitar for a cluster of children.

"That's Bonnie, our music lover," Narrator Freddy introduced, "She's the best guitar player in town!"

It didn't linger on the scene long, moving through the pizzeria once more until it arrived in the Kitchen. Chica was there, wearing an apron and a chef toque, surrounded by stacks of pizza that Freddy took about a dozen from before going back into the Dining Area.

"And Chica, our pizza chef," Narrator Freddy said, "She makes the best-tasting pizza you've ever had!"

Again, the camera didn't linger, and the scene cut to a door opening and Cartoon Foxy sauntering in, a large sack over his shoulder.

"Ahoy, mates!" he called in greeting.

"And last, but not least, Foxy," Narrator Freddy continued, "He used to be a pirate before he started helping us. Now he gets all the special ingredients for our pizzas and tells stories of his adventures to anyone who'll listen."

Foxy dropped the sack in the kitchen.

"Here ya go, lass," he said to Chica.

"My cheese! Great," Chica replied, "Thanks, Foxy." Foxy smiled. Freddy entered, grabbing more pizza.

"Hiya Foxy, welcome back!" Freddy greeted, "Can you give me a hand, here?"

"Aye," Foxy answered, grabbing a stack of pizza in his good hand. The two walked out to the dining room, and Freddy grinned.

"Watch this," he said with a wink.

The cartoon bear began to rapidly toss each pizza like a Frisbee, each pie landing perfectly on the table of the group that ordered it. They flew one after the other at a machine-gun like pace, until he ran out. Freddy dusted his hands proudly as the patrons clapped.

"Bravo, Mr. Fazbear," a slimy voice said with a pronounced Southern drawl.

From a far table, a man stood up, holding a pizza in his hands. He wore a white suit and cowboy hat, a small smile on his face. Freddy's soured as he recognized the man. Foxy noticed the man to and frowned.

"Aren' you-." The man cut him off by grinning widly.

"Why yes, I am Robert J. Montgomery, owner of Pizza Pavilion." Bonnie wandered over, guitar in hand.

"You mean that great big chain of pizza places that's all shiny and futurery?"

"The very same. I must say I am right impressed by your establishment, even if it is rather... slow." Montgomery sneered. Freddy crossed his arms.

"Well the guests seem rather happy Mister Montgomery, and that's all that really matters."

"That may be, but for how long Fazbear? They will tire of your little shop eventually, and then they will flock to my far superior pizza experience." Montgomery gave the three a sly smile. At that moment Chica walked up, dusting flour from her apron.

"Freddy, we have a _ton_ of pizzas waiting and- who's this?" Before the bear could answer Montgomery walked over.

"Robert J. Montgomery. I must admit you make a mean pizza pie." Chica smiled at the comment.

"Thanks, it's really nothing spec-."

"Mine are better of course, in every way." He dropped the pizza in his hands to the floor and looked around with visible disgust. "It won't be long until this place will close its doors." Foxy stepped forward.

"Then how abou' I throw ya ou' of 'em ya bilgerat?" Montgomery held up his hands.

"That will not be necessary, I assure you. I shall see myself out, y'all have a good day now." He tipped his hat and walked away, leaving the four stunned.

"He was a really rude man." Bonnie commented.

"Aye, a no good plank walking lubber he is! If I see 'im 'ere again I'll keelhaul him!" Freddy put a hand on both their shoulders.

"Don't you worry about him. We have a pizzeria to run, after all!" He pointed to a table out of frame. "I believe that birthday party is waiting to hear your songs Bonnie, and those boys look ready for one of your famous adventures Foxy!" The cartoon cut to a cluster of children dressed as pirates, waving swords and wearing eye patches. Bonnie and Foxy smiled and set off to entertain the guests. Freddy turned to Chica. "Now Chica, how many pizzas do we-." He paused as the chicken lifted the floored pizza off the brightly colored tile angrily. "What's wrong?"

"That jerk! My pizzas are great, right Freddy?" Freddy nodded.

"Of course! He's all bluster Chica. You're the best pizza chef in the world, everyone loves your pies!" Chica grinned.

"Thanks Freddy!" The bear laughed.

"It's the truth! Let's get back to it, we have plenty of hungry customers and we can't just leave them there drooling!" With that business returned to usual.

* * *

There was a cut to reveal a posh office. A bear throw rug was on the floor in front of a large wooden desk. Seated behind it in a high-backed chair was Montgomery. He was not pleased.

"Horton, Grunk, I am most upset. Do you know why?" Horton, a wiry man with a curly mustache and an abacus in his hands looked up nervously. Grunk was occupied with picking his nose, his mining finger attached to a massively muscled frame.

"Uh... no, boss, I have no idea." Horton's voice was high pitched and greasy. "Right Grunk?" The man looked at him.

"Whuh?"

"See?" Horton looked hopefully at his employer. Montgomery sighed.

"Then allow me to enlighten you as to the cause of my woes." He reached up and pulled down a line graph. It was plummeting straight down. "This is our projected profits ever since those animals opened up their little pizza shack." He pulled another graph down, this one a line graph falling into the Grand Canyon. "This shows our attendance." He pulled down a third graph which was simply his scowling face. "And this is a reflection of how I am feeling right now. Tell me Horton, why is that bear and that idiotic band of his still in business?" Horton held abacus in front of him like a shield.

"It's... the pizza sir," he said softly. Montgomery looked at him like he had just turned purple.

"The pizza?"

"Yes. It's... it's..." Horton began to shake nervously.

"Inferior? Worse? Pathetic?" Montgomery asked.

"Round?" Grunk added.

"B-better, sir," Horton finished in a barely audible whisper. Montgomery narrowed his eyes.

"Say that again." Horton shook his head. "Come on now, I'm not mad, I'm just rather hard of hearing these days."

"Their pizza is be-." Montgomery pushed a button on his desk and the floor beneath Horton opened, revealing a deep hole. He fell in with a scream and the floor slid back into place. Montgomery looked at Grunk, who shrank in on himself.

"Fish him out of the shark tank Grunk. I want you two to handle this situation most rapidly."

"How boss?" Grunk asked, scratching his head.

"We will hold a competition, chef versus chef. The superior pizza will win, but you will make sure that bird cannot compete. "

"Uh..." Grunk stared blankly at his boss. Montgomery sighed.

"Steal her ingredients. No pizza means we shall win by default, proving our superiority over that pathetic little pizza shack once and for all." Grunk stood there, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "You may go now."

"Ok boss!" Grunk lumbered out and Montgomery put his head in his hands.

"Idiots." The cartoon cut again, this time back to the pizzeria on the following day. It was as busy as usual when Montgomery walked back inside. He met Freddy first, who smiled politely. "Welcome back Mr. Montgomery, what brings you here?" He then frowned. "You're not going to insult us again are you?" Montgomery gave him a sly smile and shook his head.

"No no my dear bear, I have no intention of doing anything of the sort. I come bearing both an apology and a proposition. It seems that my previous attitude has angered both you and your companions and I wish to express my embarrassment and sincere misgivings over the words I had articulated to you." Freddy nodded happily.

"Apology accepted, let me get my friends, one second."

* * *

It cut to the four standing around Montgomery.

"...So again, I do apologize Miss Chica, I have judged your pizza unfairly."

"Don't worry about it." Chica replied but Montgomery held up a hand.

"I have not finished. I still do believe my pizza is the best but I have decided that as opposed to rude words we would hold a little... competition. You against my finest chef, winner take all. If you win I will personally put a sign on all of my pizzerias stating that my pizza is not as good as the ones served at Freddy Fazbear's." Foxy crossed his arms.

"And if ya win, Mon'gomery?"

"Then you close this place. Forever. What do you say?" Montgomery offered his hand to shake but Freddy shook his head.

"I'm sorry Mr. Montgomery, but no dea-."

"You're on!" Chica said, grabbing his hand and shaking it. Montgomery gave a sinister grin.

"May my best chef win." He nodded in farewell and Bonnie immediately rounded on Chica.

"Are you crazy?! Why would you accept that deal?" Chica scoffed.

"Freddy said it himself, all bluster, I intend to wipe the floor with him. Telling me my pizza's are no good, I'll show him!" Freddy put a paw on her shoulder.

"I'm sure you will Chica, but it was still a big risk, you need to be careful on what bets you take." Foxy scoffed.

"No risk no treasure, mate!"

"Even so, let's just be careful. I have a feeling Montgomery doesn't plan on playing fair."

"Aye, I'll be keepin' me eyes peeled fer any sign o' trickery!" Foxy declared.

"Don't you mean eye?" Chica asked. Foxy stopped, good eye turning so it was pointed at his eye patch, and frowned.

"Same thing!" Foxy said and proceeded to Pirate's Cove where he climbed up to the stage's crow's nest and began looking through a telescope. Freddy shook his head.

"With Foxy on the watch, we've got nothing to fear. Let's get back to work, customers are waiting!" The other three got back to work and the cartoon stopped briefly, a black gap intended for a commercial were it to be broadcasted.

* * *

A shot faded in again of the pizzeria, albeit at night and with the last guests trickling out the door. Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and Foxy waving their goodbyes.

"So long mateys, it always be a pleasure when ya drop in ta port!" Foxy called.

"Bye, it was really fun playing for all of you, hurry back!" Bonnie added.

"See ya!" Chica too joining in the yelling of farewells.

"Good bye folks, have a safe trip home!" Freddy finished and closed the doors. Taking off his hat he pulled out a cartoonishly large key with a picture of their faces on it and inserted into an equally large keyhole on the door, locking it shut. "Alright gang, let's get to bed, we have another big day ahead of us!" Also unlike real life the four lived in a apartment on the pizzeria's second floor. The camera panned to follow them as they walked up the stairs the lights in the pizzeria shut off, cutting to a shot of the building going dark. It then cut to a bush from which Horton and Grunk popped out.

"Alright, they're asleep, let's get in there and grab those ingredients!" Horton began to sneak towards the pizzeria's helpfully labeled rear entrance. Grunk frowned.

"What's a ingredient?" he asked in his deep voice. Horton hushed him and waved him over. Grunk stood and ambled up to where Horton was standing by the door, picking the lock. "What's a ingredient?" He was shushed again and the lock clicked.

"Ah ha!" Horton cheered in triumph and swung the door open. The pair stepped inside and found themselves in the kitchen. "Grunk, hand me the sack!" The view cut to a close-up of Horton's hand in which his partner placed a white sock. Horton looked at it. "Grunk... this is a sock."

"Yes."

Horton tossed the sock to the ground and yanked a large burlap sack from Grunk's pocket. Grunk stooped to pick up the sock while Horton began stuffing cheese, tomatoes, flour, and toppings into the sack as fast as he could.

"Help me Grunk, empty that fridge!" Grunk gave him the thumbs up and threw the fridge door open. He began dumping its contents onto the floor, creating an immense clatter. It cut to the four pizzeria owner's bedroom. From left to right it showed Bonnie, Chica, Foxy, and Freddy sleeping soundly. Each bed reflected its owner, Bonnie's being purple with musical notes on the bedspread, Chica's yellow with a pizza pattern, Foxy's red with skull and cross bones, and Freddy's brown with a pattern of top hats. A loud clash is heard and Bonnie snaps awake.

"Chica!" Bonnie whispered loudly. "There's someone down stairs!" Chica sighed.

"Ok, I'll take care of it." She replied in a tired voice. She rolled over and began whispering to Foxy. "Foxy, there's someone down stairs." Foxy opened his good eye.

"Aye, I'll handle it." He rolled over and began to whisper to Freddy. "Freddy, there be someone down stai-."

"I know. I'll go see what's going on." Freddy was already standing, making his bed before grabbing his top hat from the bed post and walking down stairs. Bonnie got up and followed.

* * *

"Stop, stop, stop! What are you doing?!" Grunk looked at him confused before getting a stroke of genius.

"Oh, right." He grabbed a stick of butter that sat on top of the pile of ruined foodstuff and shoved it in his sock. "There!" Horton slammed his face into his palm, but the clicking of the lights and the sound of footsteps caused them to look at each other.

"Run!" Horton yelled. They ran in separate directions, Horton out the back door, Grunk into the dining room. "This way you idiot!" Grunk turned and ran the other way. The pair vanished into the night as Freddy and Bonnie discovered the mess.

"Oh no, look at this mess!" Bonnie said sadly. Freddy nodded and left , coming back with a broom and beginning to clean up. Chica and Foxy walked in on the pair cleaning.

"My kitchen! Oh, if I find who did this I'll bake _them_ into a pie!" Chica said angrily. Foxy shook his head.

"Wha' low down, no good bilge ra' would do somethin' like this?" Chica shrugged and began looking through the cupboards. She shrieked.

"My ingredients, they're gone!" Bonnie put and arm around her friend.

"Don't worry Chica, me and Foxy can get you more tomorrow!" Chica shook her head.

"That competition is tomorrow! If I don't have ingredients, I can't make any pizza. I'd have to forfeit, we'd lose!" Chica was distraught and she put her head in her hands. Freddy held up his hands.

"Everybody calm down, we're not going to lose! Chica, we'll get you more ingredients before the contest." He looked at Foxy. "Do you know of any stores that are open?" Foxy shook his head.

"Nah mate, no store be open at this time o' nigh'." He put his hook to his chin in thought. "However, there be one place tha' have wha' we be needin'."

"What place?" Bonnie asked. Foxy grinned.

"Isla Ingredientes." The others stared at him blankly. "Don' tell me ya never heard of it!" His friends shook their heads. " 's where I ge' all of our ingredients." Chica frowned.

"You get all of our ingredients from an island?"

"Aye, where else would I go?" Chica crossed her arms and scoffed.

"A store, maybe?" Freddy cleared his throat, getting their attention.

"The island is fine. Foxy, get there as quickly as you can. Chica, go with him. Bonnie and I will clean up." Foxy grinned and threw his hook up in the air.

"Yes, it be time for an adventure, lass!" Chica grinned.

"Yeah, let's do this!"

* * *

The cartoon cut to an exterior shot of the pizzeria before panning over to show a large dock built right behind it. A galleon stood proudly by the dock, its red painted sides glowing in the moonlight. The name _Red Fox_ was painted in a rich scrawl on the side. Foxy's personal Jolly Roger fluttered from atop the main mast, his smiling face in front of two crossed swords. Foxy strolled purposefully up the gangplank. A parrot fluttered down sporting a pirate hat and eye patch. He squawked.

"Ge' tha _Red Fox_ ready ta sail, Firs' Mate Beaky, we be on a ques' fer more ingredients!" Foxy ordered. Beaky squawked again.

"Setting the sails, setting the sails, _aaawwk_!" The bird flew off and soon the sails dropped down, filled with wind and the ship moved forward at a rapid pace. Foxy grabbed the wheel expertly with his good hand and spun it round. He looked down at Chica who had donned her own pirate hat. Beaky landed on her shoulder.

"_Aaawwk_, sails are set, sails are set, _aaawwk_!"

"Excellent, onwards t' adventure, ha ha!" He spun the wheel again. "Give us a song lads!" Beaky nodded and fluttered over to a boom box.

"_Aaawwk_, hitting the tunes, hitting the tunes, _aaawwk_!" He pecked the play button and upbeat nautical music burst from the speakers. Foxy laughed again and started the song.

"Onwards t' adventure an' glory untold! A sea full o' monsters an' tales o' gold!" Chica joined in.

"Pirates are we 'till we come back ashore, our arms full of riches and stories galore! We've set our course and shall sail it too! Just me and my crew and of course you!" The pair pointed at the screen. Beaky landed on Foxy's shoulder

"_Aaawwk_, breaking the wall, breaking the wall, _rawk_!" It cut to the _Red Fox_ sailing into the distance, the full moon high above before going back to another black screen indicating a commercial break. The return showed Foxy, Chica, and Beaky hauling a row boat onto the shore. Chica frowned and looked down, twisting her foot upon the sand.

"Is this salt and pepper?" she asked. Foxy nodded.

"Aye, tha' be why i's called 'Isle Ingredientes.' First Mate Beaky, take care o' me ship while we scour this here atoll." Beaky nodded.

"_Aaawwk_, watch the ship, watch the ship, _aaawwk!_" Beaky flew off and Chica surveyed the island. The island's trees were strange. Their bark looked like cinnamon sticks but the leaves were parsley. Tomatoes grew fat and red on their branches while garnish grew in clumps like grass. A scattering of rocks looked suspiciously like cheese, all different kinds.

"This is one weird place. Alright captain, where do we start?" Foxy reached into his coat and yanked out a map. He studied it before pointing forward with his good hand.

"Tha' way, wha' we be seekin' be in the Cavern of Recipes."

"Huh, that sounds easy," Chica commented. Foxy checked his map again.

"Guarded by tha Master of Recipies. A massive beast!"

"And now it sounds like a bad idea."

"Aye, and tha's wha' makes it fun, come on!" Foxy grabbed her hand and led her into a thick jungle of ingredients.

* * *

The cartoon then cut to a workshop where a man in a lab coat was tinkering on some type of gizmo. A door in the back slid open and Montgomery walked in. The man turned.

"Ah, Herr Montgomery, vhat a _vonderful_ surprise!"

"Excuse me if I forgo our usual formalities but it is late and I am without patience. Show me my new chefs Doctor Maniacus." Screiberg grinned in delight.

"It vould be mein pleasure!" He led the executive over to where a white sheet covered an object. He yanked it off to reveal a robot. It's small square head had large circular eyes and small torso. Its skinny arms led to its hands, the left being a large paddle and the other a simple four fingered claw. It barely came up to Montgomery's waist and its entire exterior was a dull grey. "May I present zhe Chefotronic 9000!" Maniacus pulled a large remote and pushed its single red button. The Chefotronic's eyes lit up and it turned to face Montgomery.

"Please present the order," it told the executive in a emotionless, boring voice. Montgomery smiled.

"Well I'll be a monkey's aging grandfather, you have truly outdone yourself." He looked at the doctor who was swelled with pride. "Tell me, what is that large paddle on his hand for?"

"Jou mean zhe peel?" Maniacus asked. Montgomery shook his head.

"No, the paddle."

"Zhe _peel_," Manicus corrected. "Zhe paddle is called zhe peel."

"Well why would they call it that, it don't make a lick of sense." Maniacus shrugged.

"I don't know, I had to look it up." The robot was still waiting expectantly, staring hard at Montgomery, who stared back before smiling his signature evil smile.

"Alright doctor, let us have a demonstration." Maniacus grinned.

"Certainly!" He pulled another remote from his lab coat and pushed its button. A kitchen popped out of the floor and the robot wheeled itself over to it. The pulling out and use of another remote caused a pair of lounge chairs to pop out beneath the men, who reclined contently. "So, vhat pizza vould jou like?"

"The House Supreme, let's give our boy here a challenge." Maniacus nodded.

"Coming right up!" He called out to the Chefotronic. "Vone house special!" The robot nodded.

"Order received, one house special, it shall be ready in a moment Doctor Nefarious Manicus." The robot replied and it sprang into action. It's claw retracted and became a cup with which it scooped up flour and sprinkled it on the counter. It then opened up a panel on its chest and pulled out a large wad of dough. It slammed the dough on the counter and the cup became a rolling pin. In three passes a perfectly round pizza base was created. The rolling pin became a nozzle and it applied the sauce in one quick squirt. The nozzle then became a grater and it produced a block of cheese from its stomach. The block was shredded in less than a second and the cheese fell perfectly onto the dough. Switching the grater for a knife it grabbed a pile of ingredients from the fridge. Dicing them rapidly it then dumped the lot on top of the pizza. Now finished, it scooped the pizza up using the peel and shoved it in the oven. The knife now replaced with another nozzle it shot a stream of flames into the oven. It then removed the now perfectly cooked pizza and placed it the pick-up counter which rose up in front of the men. It rang the bell. "One House Special, order up!" The whole process took less than a minute. Montgomery took a bite and his eyes lit up. He stood and began a slow round of applause and looked at Maniacus, clearly pleased.

"Wonderful, simply outstanding! You have certainly outdone yourself Doctor. With this machine we will be handing that stupid duck her own tail feathers, of that I am certain." He looked at the robot that waited idly for another order. "Ensure our metal friend here gets his rest for the night, he must be in top form for the competition tomorrow." Maniacus nodded.

"Ja, ja, it vill be as jou say." Montgomery smiled again and patted the robot on the head before walking out of the room.

* * *

Back with Chica and Foxy, the cartoon cut to the pair walking through the dense jungle, Foxy cutting away branches with his cutlass.

"We there yet Foxy, I'm getting sick of this jungle," Chica told the fox, ducking a branch that had snapped back after Foxy pushed it out of the way.

"Aye, shan' be much farther now." They arrived at a clearing and a large hill rose out of the ground. A cave was in its side, its black maw open wide. "Ah ha! This mus' be tha place!"

"Gee, you think?" Chica replied. Foxy didn't hear as he already walked up to the cave, peering into the darkness. A low growl came from within the cave and they both stiffened. Chica walked up next to him "You first."

"Cooks before Pirates lass," Foxy replied. Chica scoffed.

"And they call _me _a chicken. Come on scaredy-fox, we'll go together." They stepped forward together and entered the cave. It became darker and darker until the screen was pitch black, only their eyes visible on screen.

"Bilge rats coulda leas' lef' us a torch, it be black as nigh' in 'ere!"

"Hang on I got it." Chica clapped her hands and the cave suddenly brightened as torches lit up along the cave's walls. They were in a large chamber, ingredients stacked all around. Scrolls lined the back wall on organized shelves. Inches from the pair's faces was a massive blue dragon. It blew smoke from its nostrils and the two friends stared at the beast with wide eyes. Foxy slowly brought up his hands and clapped twice. The cave was sent back into darkness. Two thunderous claps caused the cave to light up again. The dragon looked around but the pair were gone. He frowned and took a deep sniff.

"I can smell you visitors!" He called out in a deep and gravelly voice. "You smell of pizza and the sea, so a chef and pirate you must be!" He paused in thought. "You are thieves, come to steal what belongs to me! Come out and face me cowards!" Foxy stepped out from behind a bag flour.

"No one calls me a coward, beastie," Foxy told the dragon angrily. Chica stepped out too.

"And nobody calls me a thief. We're not thieves, not even Foxy!"

"Aye, I be a pirate!" Foxy stated proudly before looking a Chica. "Oy, what's that supposed to mean?" The dragon lowered himself down, blue scales shining in the torch light.

"If you are not thieves then why have you come?" Chica shrugged.

"We need to borrow some of your ingredients." The dragon barked a laugh.

"Borrow? Ha, ha! _Borrow?!_ If you want to take what I store here in my vault then you must prove your recipe is worthy." Chica crossed her arms.

"Believe me, Smoky, it is." The dragon laughed again.

"Is that so?" it asked. Chica nodded.

"Hundred percent, now cough it up." The dragon glared at her.

"You do not make demands of me! If this recipe of yours is as tasty as it claim then you must prove it!" He gestured with a claw to kitchen tucked in the corner of the room. "Go, duck, but you only get one chance."

"And why do we need ta impress ya, beast?" Foxy demanded.

"Yeah, what's it to you?" Chica added. The dragon growled.

"Why? Why?! Because I am Smug! My collection is the finest in the world and my tastes even fickler. I have amassed the greatest recipes in all the world and only they may be graced by the contents of this vault." He glared at Chica. "You are but a pathetic pizza chef." Chica clenched her fists, indignant.

"I am _not_." Smug grinned slyly. He again gestured to the kitchen.

"Then prove it."

"Fine! Foxy, let's get cooking." She and Foxy walked into the kitchen and the cartoon cut back to the pizzeria.

* * *

Freddy and Bonnie were mopping up the last of the mess. Bonnie wiped her forehead.

"Whew!" She looked around. "Looks like we got it all Freddy!" The bear nodded, straightening a shelf ever so slightly.

"Yep, great job Bonnie!" He gathered up the mops and put them back in the closet while Bonnie sat in a chair, swinging her legs and watching the clock.

"I wonder how Foxy and Chica are doing, hope they can stay out of trouble." Freddy gave her a confident grin.

"They are just out getting ingredients, I expect them to be on their way back right now!" Bonnie nodded gravely.

"I hope so, there's not much time left until the contest."

* * *

The cartoon cut back to the cave where Chica held a steaming pizza up to the dragon.

"Here ya go, Smoky, eat up." Smug picked up a slice with a claw and held it up to his nose. He sniffed it once before slowly sticking out his tongue. The forked end just lightly tapped the slice. The dragon practically melted and tossed the whole slice into his mouth.

"This is simply spectacular!" He told them with his mouth full. He grabbed slice after slice and shoved them into his mouth. The pizza was gone in a matter of seconds. "You are indeed worthy, Pizza Chef. Take whatever you need, the world must taste this pizza. Please, tell me, where do you make this wonderful creation?" Chica shrugged.

"Freddy Fazbear's Pizza. I'll save you a table. Come on Foxy, help me with this." She and Foxy gathered all the ingredients they needed in two large bags. Giving Smug a cheerful farewell wave Foxy led the way back to the ship.

"Ha ha, ye sure showed tha' beast Chica! Told ya yer pizzas were grea'!" Foxy told her as they approached the ship. Beaky fluttered over and helped lift the sacks aboard. The sun was rising over the ocean, reflecting off the sea.

"_Aaaawwk, _running out of time, running out of time, _aaawwk_!"

"Blast! Come on Chica, we go'ta go! Beaky, roll ou' tha canvas, full sail!"

"_Aaaawwk, _full sail, full sail, _aaawwk_!" The sails of the _Red Fox_ billowed and the ship raced forward, chasing the rising sun.

* * *

Montgomery stepped out of his white limo into the Freddy Fazbear's Pizza parking lot and put his cowboy hat on. Grunk wheeled out a crate while Maniacus backed up a large truck. Freddy and Bonnie walked out and looked at the whole operation. Montgomery walked over.

"Ah, Mister Fazbear! I trust your chef is ready for our little competition?" Freddy nodded.

"You bet Mr. Montgomery. Did you want to use our kitchens or-." Montgomery waved his hand.

"There is no need for I have brought my own." Maniacus stepped out of the truck and pulled a remote out of his coat. Pressing its sole button the truck's back unfolded into a pair of identical kitchens.

"Whoa, that's amazing!" Bonnie stated, looking at the new kitchen in awe. Montgomery nodded.

"And expensive." He held his hand up to his forehead and peered into the distance. "Ah, and here comes our judges. And our audience!" Freddy and Bonnie looked at each other.

"Judges?" Freddy asked.

"Audience?" Bonnie added.

"But of course, this _is_ a competition." A black limo rolled into the parking lot followed by a stream of news vans and cars. A news helicopter flew overhead. Grunk set out a table and chairs made of a dark wood. Three snooty looking people took their seats behind. "Might I introduce Franz Gulliere, Margaret Swanson, Dominique France, and..." A green jeep honked its horn and rolled up to the table. A man in green fatigues, cavalry boots, and a shining helmet stepped out, a butler following him. Grunk set down an armchair next to the others and the man sat in it, the butler standing stiffly to his left.

"Arthur C. Garret. Eccentric billionaire extraordinaire!" He looked cheerfully at Freddy and Bonnie. "I heard your friend was quite the cook, I had to come here and taste it for myself."

"Yes, now where-." Montgomery started but Arthur cut him off.

"Me and Montgomery here have a gentleman's wager! If I win, he has to where a bright polka dot suit. If he wins he gets my armchair here." He slapped said chair for emphasis.

"A chair?" Bonnie asked.

"It's a very nice chair and will fit perfectly in the new office I plan to build here once your pathetic little pizza shack is closed down. Now where is your chef?" Bonnie and Freddy looked at each other.

"Well..."

* * *

"Come on Foxy, faster!" Chica ordered.

"She's goin' as fas' as she can." The _Red Fox_ kicked up spray as it raced across the waves, land visible in the distance.

* * *

"Where is she, Mr. Fazbear?" Montgomery asked.

"Out with Foxy getting ingredients," Freddy replied.

"Ingredients, am I to assume you never have enough ingredients for your customer's orders?" Montgomery asked smugly. "_My_ restaurants are always fully stocked."

"We do, but someone broke in last night and ruined them!" Bonnie told him.

"Ah, that is unfortunate," Montgomery said with fake pity.

* * *

"Hurry Foxy, you gotta step on it!" Chica urged, standing at the bow. The pizzeria became visible and she groaned. "Oh no, they're already here!"

"_Aaawk_, not gonna make it, not gonna make it, _Aaawwk_!" Beaky told her sadly.

"We are too Beaky, have a little faith lad!" Foxy scolded. "We'll make it. Pro'bly."

* * *

Montgomery snapped his pocket watch closed. "Time's almost up Mr. Fazbear. If she's not here in one minute you forfeit." Freddy frowned at the man.

"She'll be here." Bonnie suddenly pointed.

"There they are!"

* * *

"There it is! Alright Foxy slow it down!" Chica shouted. Foxy didn't reply. "Foxy?"

"'old on tigh', lass, 's gonna ge' rough."

"Why? Foxy what are you doing?" The shore raced closer and closer, the water getting shallower. "Foxy, slow down, we're gonna hit land!" She waved and pointed for emphasis.

"I know! Beaky, activa'e tha wheels!" Beaky nodded.

"_Aaaawwk, _dropping wheels, dropping wheels, _aaawwk!_"

Freddy looked at the rapidly approaching ship. "He's not slowing down."

"What is Foxy doing?" Bonnie asked. Freddy's eyes suddenly widened as the ship hit the shore.

"Get out of the way!" Everybody scattered as the _Red Fox_ suddenly roared up the shore supported by massive monster truck tires. It tore across the parking lot, crushing Montgomery's limo before sliding to halt in a cloud of smoke. The ship became obscured as the cloud of white smoke billowed out before Foxy and Chica strolled out of it triumphantly, sacks over their shoulders. A polite applause rose from the gathered crowd while Montgomery looked unimpressed, shooting Grunk a vicious glare to stop his employee's clapping. Arthur jumped up and stood on his chair, whooping and clapping.

"That was incredible, your friends certainly know how to make an entrance." He turned to his butler. "Wadsworth, remind me to look into making a land conversion to the yacht!"

"Which one, sir?" Wadsworth asked, pulling out a notepad and pen from inside his coat. Montgomery cleared his throat loudly to stop the billionaire from replying.

"The competition, Mister Garret?" Montgomery hinted, annoyed. Arthur looked sheepish.

"Oh, right." He leaned in to whisper to Wadsworth. "The blue one." The butler nodded and made a note. Montgomery turned to face the new arrivals.

"I take it by your theatric and destructive entrance that you are ready to begin the competition?" Chica nodded and took her place in one of the kitchens. Grunk placed the crate in the other and cracked it open. The Chefotronic 9000 rolled out, earning a collection of "oohs" and "aahs" from the crowd of reporters. Montgomery smiled smugly at the reaction as Maniacus handed him a microphone. He pushed its single red button down.

"Now that our other contestant is finally here we can begin. Each judge will give our chefs their order. They will then prepare each pizza to be presented to the judges. They have ten minutes to take the orders, prepare the pizza, and deliver it to the table. The clock starts... now."

Maniacus pressed the button on his remote and a timer popped out of the cab of the truck. It began counting down. The Chefotronic raced over to the tables, knocking Chica over. It wheeled up to the judges.

"Please state your order," it stated in its toneless voice. Gulliere looked at the robot with disdain and scoffed.

"You expect me to believe zhis _machine_ can cater to my demanding pallet?" He demanded, now looking to frown at Montgomery. Arthur poked him across the other judges with a riding crop.

"Come on Gulliere, I thought the French loved new food things!" Gulliere swatted the crop away.

"Fine, you annoying American! I shall have zhe 'Ouse Special." The robot gave no indication that it heard and simply rolled over to the next judge. Gulliere rolled his eyes and looked at Chica who approached.

"What'll ya have, Frenchy?" Chica asked. Gulliere lifted an eyebrow while Arthur stifled a laugh.

"I'll have whatever your 'Ouse Special is too, madame." Chica nodded.

"You got it. How about you miss?" Margaret smiled back politely.

"I'll make it easy for you. Cheese please." Chica nodded again and moved on down to Dominique.

"I'll have a deep dish with crust lightly browned. Two layers of cheese with pepperoni, bell peppers, sausage, and onions." He ordered. Chica looked flustered.

"Sorry, one more time, and slower." Dominique sighed and repeated his order. Meanwhile Arthur talked to the robot.

"Please state your order."

"I'll have a taco."

"Menu item not found."

"Oh... a bagel!"

"Menu item not found." Montgomery stormed up to the man.

"I ask that you not impede this competition Mister Garrett." Arthur gave him a wide grin.

"Just testin' to see your robot's flexibility!"

"I run a pizzeria Mister Garrett, what more would I need?" Montgomery demanded.

"Point takem, Robert. I'll have an extra large pepperoni and jalapeño. You like jalapeños right Wadsworth?" Said butler nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Then we're doing that!" The Chefotronic and Montgomery rolled/walked away and Chica walked up.

"What's with the helmet?" Chica asked. Arthur laughed.

"It makes me look tough, right Wadsworth?"

"Yes sir, very tough," Wadsworth confirmed. Chica smiled.

"What's your order?" Arthur looked at Wadsworth.

"Your turn!" Wadsworth nodded.

"Pepperoni please, madame." Chica nodded.

"You got it Waddy." Arthur barked a laugh.

"Waddy? I love it, I'm going to call you Waddy now Wadsworth."

"I ask that you do not sir."

"You're no fun." Arthur told the butler, pouting. Montgomery moved to stand next to Freddy.

"Your chef certainly takes her time with the orders," he observed, disapproval evident in his voice.

"We like being friendly with our guests, we love talking to people, Mr. Montgomery. It makes the guests feel valued." Montgomery snorted at that.

"The only value they have is the money in their pockets. _My_ chef has nearly completed his orders." The Chefotronic fired its flamethrower into the ovens earning a collective gasp from the crowd. It then pulled out a second freshly baked pie. Chica looked over from her second pizza, the first baking away.

"Oh man, he's already done!" From the audience Bonnie grabbed Foxy's shoulder and pointed.

"Oh no, the machine is already done with two of them!" Foxy scoffed at the machine and crossed his arms.

"So? Chica's go' plen'y o' time."

"Uh, Foxy, she only has two minutes."

"Wha'?! Blazes, lass, raise anchor and se' tha sails!" Foxy called out.

"You wanna come over here and do this?!" Chica yelled back, pulling out her second pizza from the oven. Foxy moved to go help but Montgomery shook his head.

"Ah, ah, ah, my pilfering friend, she has to do it herself, no outside help." Foxy glared at him and sat back down in his chair.

"Fine." Bonnie put her hands up to her mouth.

"You can do it Chica!" Chica smiled at Bonnie and began to furiously add toppings to her final pizza. The Chefotronic placed its finished pizzas at the counter and dinged like a bell.

"Order up," it stated blandly and sat there. And sat there. Montgomery looked at Maniacus, furious.

"Why is it just sitting there, doctor?!" Maniacus looked at his creation.

"Oh dear, I see to have programmed it to wait for zhe waiters. He von't deliver zhe pizzas."

"Then why did he go take their orders?!" Maniacus shrugged.

"Vhy not?" Montgomery growled and pointed at Grunk.

"You, moron, deliver those pizzas." Grunk went to step forward but Freddy put a hand on his shoulder.

"Not so fast Mr. Montgomery, but wouldn't that be against the rules?" Montgomery looked at the bear, angry and confused.

"How so?" Freddy grinned in triumph.

"The chefs have to do everything themselves, including giving the judges their pizzas." Montgomery yelled in frustration, pulling his cowboy hat down over his eyes. Meanwhile Chica delivered her pizzas right as the timer hit zero. Freddy looked at the clock. "And that would be time, looks like you chef forfeits Mr. Montgomery, we win." The judges grabbed slices and began to eat. Their eyes widened and Gulliere stood up.

"Madame, that was simply the finest thing I have ever eaten!" Margaret nodded.

"Simply fabulous!" Dominique nodded too, busy trying to stuff the rest of the pizzas in his mouth. Arthur took an extra slice for himself and Wadsworth before he shared the rest of the pizza with the reporters. Sounds of satisfaction rose up from the audience as Arthur wiped his hands clean on a towel Wadsworth handed him before walking over to Chica and began shaking her hand.

"That was the best pizza I ever had, right Wadsworth?"

"Yes sir!" Wadsworth said happily.

"I knew it! From now on, I plan to come here every day for lunch. My daughter would love to have her birthday here! If you're free, that is." Freddy, Bonnie, and Foxy joined their friend.

"Of course, Mr. Garrett, anyone's welcome to visit!" Bonnie told him. He grinned in delight.

"Excellent, I'll see you all tomorrow," he turned to look at Montgomery, who was turning red with rage. "And I expect to see you in polka dots, Robert! Let's go Wadsworth!" He walked over and stepped into his jeep, standing tall as Wadsworth climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. Arthur saluted the group. "Bye!" Military bugles sounded and the jeep raced away down the road. Freddy turned to the reporters.

"Who's hungry?" he called out. The crowd cheered and followed the four into the restaurant. Montgomery began shaking and quivering, fists clenched tightly.

"Uh... boss?" Grunk asked. Montgomery exploded and stormed over to the robot.

"You stupid machine!" He yelled and gave it a vicious kick. A siren blared from the robot and it spun to face him.

"Violence detected, eliminating." Its hand turned into the flamethrower and it blasted at Montgomery who ran away screaming. The robot followed, shooting out bursts of flame. "Exterminate! Exterminate!" The pair ran off into the distance as Grunk and Maniacus watched.

* * *

The cartoon cut to Montgomery's office building, where a large sign read "Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is Better!" was visible. The camera zoomed into a window to show Maniacus, Grunk, and Horton were standing before Montgomery's massive desk. The giant picture of his angry face was pulled down, reflecting the attitude of the CEO. Montgomery was looking at his employees in pure hate, wearing his burned cowboy hat and a bright pink suit with dark pink polka dots. The three employees were busy trying to make themselves as small as possible, shaking.

"Uh... B-boss?" Grunk asked timidly. At this Montgomery slammed his fist down onto a button on his desk labeled "Shark Tank" and trap doors opened beneath Maniacus and Horton, who screamed as they fell. Grunk looked down one of the holes, confused. Montgomery cleared his throat loudly.

"Oh, sorry." Grunk told his boss and jumped down the hole, screaming. The trap doors closed and Montgomery put his head in his hands.

"One day, Fazbear, I'll get you, _and _your pathetic little pizza shack too!" he roared.

The cartoon then cut to the pizzeria where the reporters and families were talking, laughing, and playing. Foxy was telling stories to a group of boys dressed as pirates. Bonnie was singing and playing her guitar for a birthday party while Chica was quickly making and baking pizzas in the kitchen. Freddy's voiceover began again.

"Thanks for visiting and playing with us today everybody! We hope you had as much fun as we did, see you again soon!" The screen changed to a circle and jaunty pirate music began playing. Beaky fluttered into the circle.

"_Aaawk, _that's all folks, that's all folks, _aaawk_." The screen cut to black and the projector rattled signifying the end of the roll of film.

**The End**

* * *

The animatronics stood in silence for several seconds as the projector continued clattering. Nathan sat with his legs and arms crossed, watching for their reaction with a bemused smile. In unison, Freddy, Bonnie, Foxy and Chica all let out a cheer.

"Ah har, har!" Foxy laughed

"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" Freddy praised.

"Awesome!" came Chica's agreement.

"Fantastic! Thank you, Joseph! Thank you Daniel!" Bonnie cheered, turning around to face the men. Joseph beamed.

"You're quite welcome! We worked long and hard, didn't we Daniel?" he turned to his companion, who lay slumped in the chair, arms and legs splayed and mouth hanging open. A loud snore escaped him, and Joseph sighed. "Daniel!"

"My garden gnomes!" Daniel cried, leaping to his feet and assuming a karate stance, "Hiyah!" He threw a punch directly into Chica with a dull _clank_ as it connected with her endoskeleton. Chica quirked an eyebrow. Daniel yelled in pain and clutched his hand. Joseph pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It just never _stops_ with you, does it?" he asked. Daniel was about to reply when Bonnie pulled both of them into a hug.

"It's so wonderful!" she gushed, "Thanks, thanks, thanks!" Freddy shook his head with a grin, but joined in, ignorant to the men's squirms. Bonnie looked over to Chica and Foxy.

"C'mon, guys! Group hug!"

Chica and Foxy both shook their heads.

"Pira'es don' hug," Foxy pointed out.

"Not really into hugging adults, thanks," Chica added. Bonnie smiled.

"Come on..." she said.

"No," Foxy and Chica replied in unison. Freddy threw a look their way.

"Join the hug," he said cheerfully, but the command was clear. The fox and chicken muttered, but found a spot in the group.

Nathan watched proudly. They seemed so excited and happy. If that wasn't an indication the cartoon was good, nothing was. He smiled contently as he spotted Joseph and Daniel's paling faces and heard their gasps. The mechanic leapt to his feet, eyes wide.

"Guys! _Air!_" he yelled.

* * *

_**A/N: Annnnd done! Thanks for your patience, all, this was one heck of an undertaking. I even had to outsource it to Arm Chair General. Nice guy. Smells like tanks, likes helmets and sitting. You should totally look for him on here. **_

_**I was asked to write myself into the story, so see if you can figure out who I am. You're prize is the first lost thing you find. I put it there. You're welcome.**_

_**Anyways, I'm still alive, I'm still writing, and damn FNAF World is weird. And from Scott, that's saying something. **_

_**-DeltaV "Abba-dee-abba-dee-abba...dee...dah... Screw it, get the hell out."**_

_**P.S. Take a joke, Warner Bros. (and the Warner Sister Dot)**_


	7. Cabin Fever, by arseyman

**Cabin Fever**

**Original One-shot by: arseyman**

* * *

"...And heavy snow is predicted for tonight over the mid-western United States, with occasional showers here and there, followed by..."

Security guard Mike Schmidt buttoned up his navy blue uniform and pinned his nametag to his breast pocket, absent-mindedly scratching his cheek as he listened to the weather forecast, the noise from the TV set in his apartment filtering into his bedroom. Stepping into his slightly scuffed black shoes, he strolled to his humble abode's front door, noticing the scrapes on the wooden floor and around the door handle. These were evidence of the time Foxy spent in his apartment after the kitchen fire. Which led to Mike and the aforementioned fox getting kidnapped. And Mike getting shot. And Christina being killed...

_No. Do NOT go down there again_, Mike thought, shuddering at the memory of Trout's hitwoman slumping to the floor after being 87'nd, turning the door handle and shoving the key in the lock once in the hallway. The floor in the corridor was lined with the same scratches, more evidence left of Foxy's presence. Mike stepped into the elevator and strolled to the bus stop once it had descended.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the bus pulled to a stop, brakes hissing, as Mike disembarked. The bus pulled away, the fumes from the exhaust turning into wispy clouds the second they hit the cold night air. Keys in hand, he walked up to the front doors of Freddy's, leaving fresh prints in the light snow. Flakes drifted down, given an orange hue by the streetlights overhead. The guard turned the key and pulled the double doors open, and was fairly surprised to see the Fazbear Four standing together in the dining area. Their eyes glowed dim in the moderate darkness, telling Mike that their night vision was turned on. A small, wind up radio, left behind from when the solar storm had occured, was set up on one of the tables, broadcasting a news channel. The dials and buttons showed slight signs of damage, which the guard guessed were from Foxy operating the device with his hook. "Hi, guys," Mike greeted, "what are you up to?"

"Hello, Michael," Freddy returned.

"Ahoy, Mike lad," replied Foxy.

"Hey," said Chica.

"Hi, Mike!" said Bonnie, beaming as per usual.

"Well, Michael," continued Freddy, "we heard guests talking about a large snowstorm heading our way, and I thought we should listen to a radio to see if we're going to be okay. After what happened with that solar storm." Freddy let out an imitation of a chuckle.

"Well, seems like a good idea," Mike said, "are you guys worried or anything?"

"Not much." Freddy said with a smile.

"Are you used to extreme weather?"

"Sorta," came Chica's reply, "apart from that weird solar storm a few months back we had a butt-ton of rain a few years ago."

"Aye," confirmed Foxy, "ye coul' almos' sail in tha floodwater."

"The pizzeria is built in a dip in the ground, so when it comes to weather like rain and snow it can get fairly bad, but not too much." Freddy reassured.

"Eh," said the guard, disconcerned, "I saw the forecast a half hour ago and it probably won't be as bad as it says it'll be." He unslung his bag and dumped it on the table. "Now, onto what we'll do tonight." He ducked his hand into the bag and pulled out a rectangular, dark gray games console, along with a tangled mass of cables, four controllers and a copy of _Mario Kart 64_. Placing them on the table, Mike walked towards Pirate's Cove and walked out a few seconds later with a TV on a trolley that sat in the corner. The guard picked up the wiring and a minute later the console was plugged in and running. He sat down, cross-legged, and picked up a controller.

"Ready to play?"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, awkwardly holding the controller in her large paws, Bonnie emerged as the victor of the first few races, although Chica wasn't far behind. Mike came in third, and surprisingly, Freddy came in dead last. Foxy, thankfully, had decided to opt out, given his unpredictability when it came to games.

"Jeez, Bon, since when were you _this_ good at stuff like this?" Chica asked incredulously.

"I don't know," the rabbit answered rather honestly, "maybe I'm just a natural."

"It is our first time doing this, Chica," reminded Freddy.

"Yeah, but what if she's tried it before but you don't know?" said Mike.

"Fair point."

Foxy spoke up. "Aye, I wan' a try."

"Okay," replied Mike, "but if you're a sore loser you can't join in for the rest of the night."

"Don' worry yerself, Mike," said the pirate, 'Ol' Foxy won' be mad this time."

"Bet you he won't last ten minutes," Chica said to Bonnie, lowering her voice so it was barely audible.

* * *

**Ten Minutes Later**

"Blasted game!" Foxy shouted, swiping his hook through the air. He furiously handed the controller back to Mike and stormed off back to the Cove.

"Well," quipped Chica, "That lasted long."

"Oh, really?" said Mike, his sarcasm level parallel with Chica's.

"Well, back to the game it is, then," said Bonnie cheerfully, breaking the awkward silence that followed. The group, minus Foxy, sat back down on the floor, cross-legged in Mike's case, picking up their controllers.

"Great. Time to lose again, I suppose." Chica said as the gripped her controller once more.

**Three Hours Later**

"Fucking _hell_, Freddy, _another_ blue shell?!" cried Mike as the guard was blown off the track for the third time that race.

"All part of the game, Michael," the bear returned with an imitation of a smug grin, "don't be like Foxy now. And such language."

"I HEARD THA', FREDDY!" yelled Foxy, still sulking in the Cove, his voicebox slightly muffled by the curtain and walls between them.

"Freddy, if you pull another one of your tricks out of your hat again I'm not talking to you for the rest of the night," Chica griped, frustrated. She was now in third place, just edging ahead of Mike who was predictably still lagging behind in last. Now that the bear had gotten the hang of Mario Kart, much like with Monopoly, he was shredding the other two, but Bonnie was just hanging on to the lead. Just before the finish line, Freddy appeared from nowhere and practically rammed the rabbit's kart off the track, securing his first victory of the night.

Bonnie looked pretty downtrodden, but she warmed up.

"It's about time you won," she said with a smile.

"Dang it, Freddy," grumbled Chica.

"Well done, Freddy," congratulated Mike before it was swallowed by a yawn, "I think I'm about done. I'm gonna be asleep in my office if you need me."

The guard stumbled off to his booth, and soon dozed off to the noise of Freddy, Bonnie and Chica laughing and shouting from down the hall.

* * *

Mike's phone alerted him that it was ten to six, and the bleary-eyed guard got up and strolled back to the dining area, surprised to see the animatronics still playing _Mario Kart_. "Guys," he said, rubbing his eyes, "it's gonna be 6 AM in a few minutes, so go back to your places or whatever while I pack this stuff up."

The three rose, as Chica lightly punched Freddy in the arm and rolled her eyes, to which the bear just grinned. Mike unplugged the Nintendo and stuffed it back into his bag, watching the animatronics return to their show positions.

"Bye, Mike!" Bonnie called and waved, to which the guard waved back.

"Bye, guys!" Mike called back, and unlocked the door. He gave it a push, but for some reason it wouldn't budge. He gave it another shove but it still wouldn't move. Mike only just noticed that he couldn't see anything out of the doors, which he just attributed to the streetlights being off. He grabbed his flashlight and shone it at the door, which just illuminated a white wall against the door. Mike realised and stepped back in shock. "Uh, guys," he said with uncertainty, "did anyone check the snow?"

The three on stage shook their heads, and Foxy popped his out of the curtains. "No' me, mate," the pirate replied with a similar shake of the head, "I was in tha Cove. Why?"

"Because I think we're snowed in."

* * *

Mike tried and ultimately failed to push the door open enough to get out; the snowdrift was just too deep and the guard was too weak. The emergency exits in Pirate's Cove and the kitchen also seemed to be blocked too. He had tried for thirty minutes and was just about to give up when he had an idea.

"Hey, Freddy!" he shouted across the dining area, "Come and give me a hand!" The bear complied and walked over, his eyes glowing in the darkness.

"What do you need help with, Michael?"

"You don't reckon you could help me with this door, could you?"

"I don't see why not," Freddy replied, "after all, it's just snow." The bear pushed against the door with all the strength his servos could handle. The glass and metal frame groaned under the pressure of Freddy's massive hands, but it still wouldn't give way.

"Well, I guess we're stuck here." said Mike, defeated by the immovable wall of frozen water. _I wonder how the rest of the town is getting on_, he thought.

* * *

**The First Freddy Fazbear's**

BB grinned once he had finished charging, and ran over the windows as fast as his stumpy legs could carry him. After the nice man Nathan had connected him up to the glowy thing on wheels, he could move around during the day too. BB loved the snow (as much as he loved the sun and rain); the miniscule balloon vendor loved watching the snow coat the houses and streets in a thick white blanket. BB didn't know what snow was, exactly, but that didn't matter.

But this time, it was different. BB couldn't even see out of the window, the snow was that deep. The small animatronic grabbed a sturdy chair and eagerly scrambled onto it, but he still couldn't see over the mound of snow. He ran off to tell the others. "Guys!" he shouted with immense glee, "It's _snowed_!" Toy Bonnie widened his eyes and leapt off the stage, with his bandmates following soon after.

"Well, shoot, I gotta tell Mangle!" The rabbit ran off to Kid's Cove, his plastic footsteps soon diseappearing into the distance.

"I gotta tell Eddy!" Toy Freddy gasped, his uncannily-goofy voice echoing around the dining area. The bear burst into Parts and Service, scanning for the grouchy endoskeleton with his night vision. "Eddy!" he said, once locating him, "it's _snowed_!"

"Whatever, tell me when I care. Leave me to rot in peace." Freddy rolled his eyes, and walked back out to the sound of "_And that's not my name!_"

Bonnie almost slammed open the door to Kid's Cove with excitement, but was dismayed to find the decimated fox nowhere to be seen. He searched the entire room with earnest, but the rabbit could not find Mangle anywhere. Glumly, he walked back out but was surprised to hear a quiet rumbling from overhead. Straining his auditory receptors, he couldn't hear any explanation until one of the ceiling panels burst open and Mangle herself crawled out with haste, letting out a incessant, frightened screech. Seconds later snow poured out of the hole and heaped upon the floor. Once the discharge of snow had stopped, Mangle whimpered from her perch on the ceiling. The fox was soaked with snow, but thankfully none of her exposed wiring had been damaged.

"Are you okay, Mangle?" Bonnie asked, concerned.

"_Bzzyrznowbzzrxyxx_" she said, shaking like a leaf.

"There's snow on the roof?"

Mangle nodded and crawled off, leaving Bonnie to awkwardly step around the congealed mass of snow.

* * *

**Downtown Police Headquarters**

Officer Reuben sat in a battered and ripped swivel chair in his office, on the top floor of the building that housed the town's police department. He rested his feet on one of the desks, absent-mindedly spinning a pencil in his fingers. His colleagues,Sergeant Polk and Officer Galloway were in the same room, sat at different desks and ready to answer calls from the receptionist. The three had been there all night, there to respond to calls from distressed residents.

"Say, Reub, how many calls do ya think we're gonna get over the snow?"

"I dunno, Gall, probably not much. I bet we'll only have to shovel it off the driveway." Polk walked over to the window, drumming his fingers on the sill, when he looked down and saw the ground, wide-eyed, making an odd strangled noise. Reuben and Galloway noticed and ran over, eager but at the same time anxious to see what had gotten Polk so worked up.

"Polk, buddy, what's the matter? Something wr-"

Reuben stopped talking when he took in the state of the snow. The level of the white stuff had piled up so much that it reached the windows of the patrol cars in the parking lot.

"That's gonna be a pretty big shovel, Reub." Galloway observed, rubbing the back of his neck.

* * *

**Adventure Park**

Sir Drake wandered out of the unfinished Globetrotter and stopped in his tracks when he saw the snow. The dragon had never before experienced such strange things before; it was almost as if someone had laid a white blanket over the park. Even in the pitch-darkness, the snow was still visible as it fell heavily onto the ground. "Ah! _Herr_ Drake!" called Baron Von Pizza, "Vhat is zhe matter?"

"By my troth," murmured Drake, looking at the flakes flutter to the ground, "what is this unworldy material?"

"I do not know, but maybe somevone else vill." He imitated clearing his throat. "_Herr_ Dalton!" he shouted. A moment later the guard emerged from his post; he was still on duty in case someone took advantage of the weather to endulge in some thievery. Dalton had been positioned permanently near the Globetrotter after the park's security team learned of the three robots' sentience, since Jeremy was in charge for that department. Dalton wouldn't admit it to anyone on the team, especially not Jeremy, but he actually liked the ex-Pizza Baron animatronics.

"What is it, Baron?" the guard asked, appearing from the direction of his station and shaking snow from his thick jacket.

"_Was ist das_?" replied Baron, his German filtering through again, pointing at the thick layers of snow.

"That's snow, buddy. _Schnee._"

"Yeah, but what _is_ it, exactly?" asked Maxwell, who had by now joined the discussion.

"It's just really cold water. People are fine with it, but you robots ought to stay away. It'll damage your circuits or something like that, so don't touch it." And with that, Dalton returned to his station, leaving the animatronics still pretty puzzled.

"Water? I don't believe such lies." huffed Drake, turning away. Maxwell and Baron shared a look.

* * *

"So, Mikey, what is snow?" Chica asked, using Mike's childhood nickname and earning herself a glare from the guard in question.

"It's just really cold water. When it freezes, it just turns into this powder," Mike explained, " and then it melts and turns back into water when it's warm or hot. Sorta like ice. I don't really know the specifics, but you guys shouldn't touch it. Snow could damage your-"

"No, i' won', Mike," interrupted Foxy, "ye need lots o' water to shu' us dow'. I remem'er when Freddy go' hi' in tha face wi' a cup full o' tha stuff and he shu' down.

"That's true," confirmed Freddy, "and I think I remember Nathan saying something like our hands and feet are colder than our torsos and heads, so I'm fairly sure that we can step on it or pick it up without melting it. Even then, our suits will protect us from any snow we get hit by. That incident with the cup of water was because it hit between my suit's head and body." He finished off the explanation with a reassuring smile.

"Bilge suckin' lubbers," Foxy muttered at the memory.

A car's engine was heard passing by through the gap in the snow dug out from the door, and the sound of the car pulling to a halt filtered through as well. Footsteps crunching through the snow soon followed. Mike and the 'bots gathered by the doors, and a frown-covered face framed by red hair was made visible in the gap. "Good morning, Schmidt." she greeted roughly.

"Mornin', Arianna." replied Mike, "Who pissed in your Cheerios?"

"Hi, boss!" said Bonnie, poking her head into the gap.

"Cut the lip, Schmidt," said Arianna, nodding at Bonnie, distressed but still calm, "how the hell are we going to open up?"

"Hell if I know." replied Mike. "Maybe we could shovel our way out?"

"Seems reasonable. I'll go and get some, don't know where from though. Just stay here, keep the animatronics in order, stop anyone unauthorised from getting in, blah blah blah, etcetera, you know the drill."

"Okay, Arianna. Will do." And with that, she climbed back down the snowdrift, leaving Mike to figure out what to do next.

"Well, what do we do now, Mike?" asked Chica. Freddy had returned to Backstage and Bonnie wandered the West Hall. Foxy was crouched by the door, apparently engaged in discovering what snow was like. Upon realising it could be formed into balls and easily squashed, the pirate had a cunning idea.

"I don't really know, Chica, maybe we just wait for-" The guard was rudely interrupted by a snowball slamming with considerable speed into the side of his head. The cold was shocking, almost like burning. Mike staggered back, nearly falling over, before regaining his posture and whipping around his head in shock.

"Snowball figh'!" cried Foxy with glee, sprinting around the tables and into the Cove to avoid return fire from a stunned Mike. A smile formed across his face.

"If you wanna go, Foxy, it's on!" the guard laughed, his voice muffled by the curtains in Pirate's Cove. The fox dashed over to the emergency exit, already forced open by Chica and Bonnie earlier in the morning, and ducked his good hand into the snow outside. Scooping up several handfuls of snow, Foxy set them down on the threadbare carpet, slightly opened the curtains and flung snowball after snowball through the gap with precision only a robot like him could achieve. Mike, who in the same time had only managed to make three snowballs, was pelted by Foxy's ammunition.

"Load tha cannons, lads!" yelled Foxy as more snowballs rained upon the entrance doors. Chica had already ducked behind a table, hands shielding her head, with a worried expression on her face. Mike laughed as he returned fire at Pirate's Cove.

"What's going on, Mike? I heard shout-" Bonnie instinctively crouched as a line of snowballs flew over her head; one of them managed to slip inbetween her ears and the rest disintegrated against the back of her head. She ran out of the way and snuck around to where Chica was sheltered, crouching down to her friend's level.

"Chica, what's going on?" The rabbit seemed scared about the fact that the pirate and the night guard were involved in an all-out war.

"Foxy threw a snowball at Mike, he retailiated, and now the dining hall isn't safe." Chica recited, with an expression that conveyed the feeling that it was just another day at the office. Snow coated the area around the curtains to Pirate's Cove, but the area near the front doors were absolutely swamped in comparison.

"Michael, what is that noise?" Freddy said with a chuckle, emerging from backstage just in time to see a cluster of Foxy's snow artillery land on Mike, almost knocking the hapless guard to the floor.

"Oh. Hi, Freddy." Mike replied, staggering back up from Foxy's latest assault and dusting snow off his shoulders.

"Having a snowball fight, are we? Well, if so, I'm joining your side, Michael. Foxy can't do this any longer." The bear walked over and crouched down next to Mike.

"Pass me some snow," Freddy said, gesturing with his hand. The guard did so and the bear threw his first snowball of the night, landing squarely on Foxy's snout.

"I thought you said that snow is bad if it gets between your joints?" Mike asked.

"Water, Michael, _water_. The snow should be fine if we don't let it stay and melt," Freddy replied, lobbing another ball that just missed Foxy's ears.

"Well, I'm gonna go join Foxy since he's winning." Chica announced and walked towards the Cove, dodging the pirate's barrage. "Hey, Foxy. I'm joining your side."

"Aye, lass," the fox replied, "I can' do this alone." Foxy grinned as he passed every other snowball to Chica, doubly increasing the Pirate's Cove side's fire rate. Most of Chica's missed, but one slammed right into Mike's face, stunning the guard for a few seconds.

"Ouch, that's gotta hurt!" taunted Chica, her voice echoing from Pirate's Cove and around the dining area. Bonnie still sat behind a table with her ears bent fully down and her hands on her head. She had cringed when Mike got hit.

"I don't think I want to play, Mike." she said quietly.

"It's okay, Bon. You don't-" One of Foxy's snowballs smacked into his face, and Bonnie smiled despite herself as he wiped it off. "You don't have to join in."

"Can I watch from the stage?"

"Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Bonnie eagerly ran off and sat on the stage, her legs dangling off the edge and scraping against the floor. She watched intently as the battle unfolded. A steady stream of snowballs erupted from behind the Cove's curtains, mirrored by a slightly slower volley from Mike and Freddy's side.

"Hold on, Mike, I have an idea." Freddy picked up two handfuls of snow and used his adept stealth to sneak down the East Hall. He crept through the office, making sure not to cause any disruption to Mike's belongings, and slunk up the West Hall. With one hand, he held the snow, and with the other he ever so slightly pulled back the curtains, leaving just enough leeway for his cunning plan. All at once, he lobbed two handfuls worth of snowballs into Pirate's Cove and ran off, his deep belly laugh echoing around the building to the tune of Chica and Foxy's screams.

"_FREDDY_!" Chica screamed, shaking her fist at the retreating bear, absolutely coated in snow.

"Freddy, ye bilge-suckin' rat!" Foxy yelled as snow dropped from his loose jaw.

And so the battle continued, with several sneaky moves from each side, until all the snow that could be gathered from the cracks in the doors was gone. Eventually, Mike sat exhausted, slumped in a chair and waiting for Arianna to arrive. The animatronics, who couldn't feel fatigue thanks to their metal nature, kept at it.

A half hour later, footsteps could again be heard cruching in the snow outside. Mike strolled over to the doors as Arianna made herself visible in the gap.

"Schmidt, I got some shovels. Do what you can, I've called Nathan to help, maybe get the robots to help." She passed four snow shovels through the gap in the door, which was quite difficult, but eventually all four shovels were in Mike's hands.

The guard turned to the assembled Fazbear Four. "Is there any other way out of the building other than the front doors and the two emergency exits?" The animatronics racked their memory processors, trying to remember if there was any other breaches of the building to the outside world. Bonnie spoke up. "I think there's a skylight in the supply closet, but I don't know if it opens or not."

"Great," Mike replied, "I'll try it, but I'm gonna need some help."

* * *

"Mike, are you _sure_ this is a good idea?"

The guard sat awkwardly on Chica's shoulders, one hand as support on the bird's head, and the other trying to grasp at the handle to open the skylight.

"Don't worry, Chica, I've got this all under control."

"Well, obviously you don't, seeing as you haven't opened it yet."

"Shut up, Chica, I know what I'm- ahah!"

Mike had just managed to grab the handle, but he held on tight enough to support him.

"Alright, walk backwards as I pull it open so none of the snow falls on you."

Chica did so as several cubic feet of snow dropped from the skylight and into a conveniently placed tub. The bird nudged the plastic container out of the way and repositioned herself under the open skylight.

"Okay, Mikey, stand on my shoulders to get up." The guard tentatively did so, glaring at Chica, his legs trembling, and slowly but surely Mike had a firm grasp on the edge of the pizzeria's roof, his hands buried deep in the snow.

"Okay, Chica, support my legs, I've almost got it-_shit_!" Mike had misplaced a hand, and in a futile attempt to hang on accidentally kicked the bird backwards into a shelf of cleaning tools. A couple of mop buckets tumbled off and a broom fell down, but it was nothing major. Mike was just hanging on to the skylight, his legs dangling into the supply closet.

"Hang in there, Mike!" cried Chica, stifling a chuckle at her pun. "I got ya!" The chicken put her wings under his feet, and Mike visibly relaxed as he regained his posture. Using Chica's support and guidance, Mike eventually climbed into the roof of the establishment.

"Pass me a shovel, Chica." The bird bent down and handed Mike a snow shovel, and the guard trudged through the snow, shovel in hand, towards the edge of the roof. Mike recognized Arianna's sedan and Nathan's pickup truck with snow piled in the bed, and the mechanic in question was busy shoveling snow off of the drift that had enveloped the front doors. The snowfall had stopped completely by now, so Mike had the full, unobstructed view of the area, coated in snow. Nathan looked up at the movement.

"Hey, Mike. How the hell did you get up there?" Nathan called

"Supply closet skylight. Nearly knocked Chica over trying to get up. Had to stand on her shoulders," Mike replied.

"Nice. How long you been trapped in there?"

"Since midnight."

"Wow."

Mike dropped down off the roof and landed knee-deep in a snowbank, and made his way to the Pirate's Cove emergency exit. Shovel in hand, the guard attacked the mound of snow, scooping it up and flinging it over his shoulder.

* * *

An hour and three cups of coffee later, Mike had successfully carved the way through Pirate's Cove's emergency exit from the outside. He knocked on the door, and seconds later Foxy opened it.

"Ahoy, Mike lad. Need somethin'?" the pirate asked.

"Yeah, give us a hand with the snow, will ya?" Mike replied, offering him a shovel.

Nathan emerged from behind a snowbank to see Foxy trudging out into the snow with a shovel in his good hand.

"Mike, why the hell are you getting them to help? The snow'll blow their-" Nathan began.

"No, it won't," said Mike and Foxy in unison.

"Aye," Foxy continued, "ye tol' us tha' our legs 'n arms be safe from wa'er."

"Okay then, fair enough. Foxy, go help Mike clear out the front entrance. I'll take care of the kitchen entrance." the mechanic ordered.

"Do you want me to get the other three involved?" Mike asked.

"Don't see why not."

Mike ran into the pizzeria through Pirate's Cove, with three shovels in hand. "Guys! Nathan wants you to help clear out the snow."

"Well, if he wants us to do it, then we shall." came Freddy's reply.

The other three grabbed their shovels and walked out into the snow, imprinting large, nearly identical footprints in the white blanket.

* * *

Clutching the steering wheel of her car, Brianna Stevens slowly edged along the empty, but icy, road. She hated cold weather, after she nearly wrecked her car last year on the slippy roads, and the year before she watched a frightful accident develop before her eyes.

As her car inched along the asphalt, she passed Freddy Fazbear's. She had been there once or twice as a kid, but she never liked it and thought the characteristic robot band was weird and uncanny. Brianna kept her eyes on the road, but as she threw occasional glances at the restaurant, she noticed four, large colorful shapes that were distorted and warped by the frosty window; one brown, one purple, one yellow, and one red with hints of dark grey. The odd shapes seemed to be engaged in what appeared to be digging snow.

"I _really_ need to cut down on my coffee intake," she said to herself, and kept driving.

* * *

Two hours later, the main entrance and the two emergency exits were clear of snow, with the excess shoveled onto the sides around the doors, creating a valley of snow, almost. Arianna whipped out her phone and dialed the restaurant's staff, telling them to all turn up for work. She went inside the building and walked out with three signs, promoting the pizzeria's open doors.

"Arianna, you're seriously not opening _now_, are you?" Mike asked, bewildered.

"Can it, Schmidt," she replied immediately, not looking at the guard, "Remember the solar storm?"

Mike paused. "Fair point."

Arianna turned to face the guard. "Anyway, Schmidt, what was last night like? How the hell did all this snow get inside?"

Mike paused, before exchanging knowing smiles with the animatronics onstage.

"Just another night, boss. Just another night."

* * *

_**Hey guys, it's Delta! This lovely story was written by the fantastic "arseyman." He/she's one of the awesome folks that helped and continues to help make the "Just Another Night at Freddy's" TV Tropes page! I also think he/she does other stuff too, so definitely hit him/her up! As you can see above, he/she's a talented author. Thanks again, arseyman!**_


	8. Of Mechanics and Monsters, by AlexRocks

**Of Mechanics and Monsters**

**Story Idea by: Alex537Rocks**

Arianna studied the application in front of her for a moment, then looked up at the man seated in front of her. The gentleman's name was Alex Felsen, and he shifted a bit in his seat. He was young (Arianna guessed 24), with close-cropped light brown hair and bright, hazel eyes. The man looked a bit on the shorter side, to the point where Arianna stood a good half-inch taller in heels, only increasing the youthfulness of his appearance even more. The manager let the awkward silence hang for a few seconds more before finally clearing her throat.

"So, you're a mechanic?" she asked, setting the application down on her desk and folding her hands on top of it.

"Yes," Alex replied, nodding, "I went to a trade school for it. Just graduated, as a matter of fact." Arianna drummed her fingers on the desktop for a few moments.

"I see..." Newly graduated was good. It meant he would work on the cheap, and a mechanic was desperately needed as the animatronics began to show their age. There was enough room in the budget as the number of average customers rose during the summer. Completely doable.

Decision made, Arianna pretended to mull the idea over for nearly two minutes before finally nodding. Alex squirmed in his seat, a light sheen of perspiration forming on his forehead as she literally made him sweat it out. Arianna smiled thinly.

"Alright, you're hired." She extended her hand.

Alex's eyes lit up and he shook Arianna's hand vigorously. "Oh, wow, thank you, thanks so much!" Arianna forced her smile a bit more.

"We'll start you off at around, oh, two bucks over minimum, and we'll go up from there. Feel free to provide your own tools. I'll dig up the manual for the animatronics, that'll have their schematics and other mechanical bits in it, so you'll have some reference," Arianna explained, "I'd give you a uniform, but unfortunately we don't have anything in your size." Alex blinked.

"But you didn't ask me for my size-," he began.

"You'll start on Wednesday, that'll give you time to study up," Arianna continued, "Any questions? No? Alright, get out." She pointed to the door to her office, leading back into the restaurant. Alex hesitated for a moment as he caught up to his new manager's information dump before quickly nodding, standing, and walking out of the office. He took in the Dining Area in front of him.

Several families sat at the long tables in the middle, a great turnout for a Sunday, and a dozen more random patrons sat amongst the tables and chairs. The show the animatronics performed had just ended, leaving the large room relatively quiet. The low rattling of the air conditioning and distant, buzzing hum of the building's electrical system could be heard. The greasy smell of pizza wafted from the Kitchen, where a bored looking cook absent-mindedly stared off into space, oven ticking down behind him. All the employees had that same detached look, except for one.

He was a large man with dark hair and a beard, dressed in a dark gray uniform. A black ball cap sat on his head, the word "SECURITY" stitched in blocky white lettering just above the brim. He had a bit more of a relaxed gait as he walked by, but still looked attentive. He noticed Alex watching him and changed course, heading to the newly hired mechanic with a small smile on his face.

"Hey there!" he greeted, grabbing Alex's hand in a strong grip and shaking it, "Name's Rob, looks like you got hired."

"Yeah, just now," Alex replied, pointing over his shoulder towards Arianna's office door.

"What did you think of the boss?" Rob asked.

"She's... certainly commanding," Alex replied. Rob laughed.

"Don't let her get you down, she's just a bit of a hard-ass," Rob said, clapping Alex on the shoulder, "Might as well give you the grand tour. When do you start, Wednesday?"

"Yeah, that's right. How did you know?"

Rob shrugged. "Wednesday is when business starts to pick up. Monday and Tuesday, you'd be lucky to get a dozen people throughout the day."

"Oh..."

Rob nodded, "Yeah, times are tough. But don't worry, we still get paid!" The guard laughed good-naturedly. "C'mon, I'll show ya around."

Alex followed the larger man as he tromped down a long hallway leading away from the large room full of tables and chairs. Rob jerked a thumb, pointing backwards.

"That big room there's called the Dining Area," he explained, looking back over his shoulder at Alex, "You can probably guess why. This here's the West Hall, got another one just like it a room over. We call it the East Hall."

The duo came upon an open doorway leading into a small, cramped office. Rob adjusted his cap and stood off to the side, gesturing into the room. "And there's my office. Legally they're required to have a security guard onsite at all times. I remember when it happened, nasty business, all of it."

Alex frowned in confusion. "What do you mean? What happened?"

Rob waved his hand dismissively. "Don't go troublin' yourself with that sort of thing. Let's keep on movin', I got lots to show ya!" And like that the matter was settled.

Rob led the way through his office and down the East Hall, where the tables and stage could be seen at the far end of. The older man whistled as he walked, a spring in his step as if he had not just hinted at some horrible past event. His good mood was contagious, leaving Alex to push the questions out of his mind. The two men walked along the side wall, passing a doorway sectioned off with purple curtains. A sign placed in front read "Sorry! Out of Order." Alex stopped.

"What's in here?" he asked. Rob shrugged.

"I dunno. This part of the restaurant's closed off, boss doesn't let us go in there," he replied.

Alex pushed the curtains open slightly, letting a sliver of light slice into the darkness of the abandoned room. From what Alex could tell, the room looked barren aside from a small stage. He opened the curtain wider, and the light spilled across a tooth-filled red muzzle and glinted off a sharp metal hook. Alex's eyes widened. It was a robot, an animatronic that loosely resembled a fox or a dog.

The machine was seated on a large wooden chest, the only thing on the empty stage, and indeed, the entire room. Much like the animatronics that Alex saw performing onstage, it wore a sort of thick fur costume over its robotic endoskeleton, which could be seen in the many holes and tears in the suit. An eye patch covered the robot's right eye, and a hook was mounted in place of a right hand. Alex stared in fascination, and felt a tinge of frustration at seeing a machine in such deplorable condition. The costume it wore was in tatters, completely gone around the legs and left hand, and the exposed metal looked rusted even from a distance.

"Well ain't that somethin'," Rob suddenly said. Alex turned to see the man scratching his head with the brim of his cap. "I wonder if that's what you're 'sposed to fix."

"Maybe, but this room looks like it hasn't been used in years," Alex pointed out, "Why not just get rid of the thing?" A passing employee snickered.

"They don't get rid of him because he doesn't want to leave," the employee, a middle-aged woman, said, a small stack of plates in her hand. It was the hostess Alex had met on his way in.

"He?" Alex asked inquisitively.

The woman nodded. "Yeah, he. Meet Foxy." She gestured towards the curtains with her elbow, and was off. Rob watched her go with a frown.

"Bunch'a hooey," he muttered, scratching his cheek.

"Huh?" Alex asked. Rob shook his head.

"Lotsa folks here think these robots are haunted or somethin'," Rob explained sourly, "Don't much care for that sorta stuff. I've been here nearly every day for months, and I ain't seen nothin' worth writin' home about."

_Haunted?_ Alex thought, _That wasn't in the application._ Rob thumped him on the back, nearly knocking the smaller man over.

"Don't let that bother you none, it's all talk. Head over this way, got some more to show ya."

Rob led the way to a door located just to the left of the stage. It opened to reveal a dark, medium-sized room full of shelving and... heads. Nearly a dozen costume heads sat neatly lined up on the far wall, staring out with black, empty eye sockets and toothy grins disquietingly familiar to skulls. A costume rack ran along the wall to his left, showing off large, bulky suits of various colors. A large metal table dominated the space in the center of the room.

"Backstage," Rob explained, "I figure you'll be spendin' most of your time here. I'll let ya wander around on your own time, this place gives me the willies." The guard opened up a door on the other end of the room. Upon stepping through Alex found himself on the other side of the stage curtain. The red fabric seemed to glow as the lights of the restaurant lit it up from behind. Standing in the middle of the space were the animatronics.

Performing while illuminated by the bright stage lights, the animatronics looked a little weird, but in the low light of the darkened stage, they looked much more... _sinister._ Rob seemed unfazed, smiling at the three robots.

"Cute, aren't they?" he asked, stepping up to the animatronic shaped like a purple rabbit. Rob was by no means a small man, but certainly seemed to be compared to the large rabbit. "Especially this one. This here's Bonnie. The yellow chicken over there's Chica, and the bear's Freddy."

Each animatronic stood over a head taller than Alex, and stared straight ahead with grins frozen on their faces. Large teeth sat squarely in their mouths (and beak, in Chica's case), and he could just barely make out a second set of jaws hidden deeper in the head.

"I'm not sure I'd use the word 'cute'," Alex said. Rob chuckled.

"Ah, well..." he trailed off, patting Bonnie on her purple arm. "Kiddos like 'em, so they're alright by me."

"Do you have any kids?" Alex asked. Rob shook his head.

"Nope. It just... wasn't in the cards for me," the guard replied, tone indicating to let the matter go. Alex did so.

"Where to next?" Alex asked, changing the subject.

"All that's left's the kitchen," Rob answered, perking up again, "Don't have to show you that, I'm sure. Welp, I've gotta get back to work. See you 'round!" Rob slipped out through the stage door, leaving Alex alone with the animatronics. He took a long look at them, examining their exposed metal with a trained eye.

The joints and motors looked worn. Chips had been taken out of the metal from constant use and oxidation was slowly creeping its way along. Continued scrutiny revealed a nearly invisible panel on the back of Freddy's costume head. Hooking his fingernails into the thin seam, Alex popped open a small square door, revealing the inner workings of the robot's skeleton. Standing on his toes, he peeked inside. A square shaped skull sat in the middle of a complicated system of wires, rods, and crossbars that linked the animatronic endoskeleton to the costume suit. Signs of wear were evident on the wires being kept at tension, likely requiring replacement. There was certainly a lot of work ahead.

Alex put the panel back in place, thumping it with his fist to ensure a tight fit. Freddy's arm shot up, hand outstretched, and came within inches of grabbing Alex's arm before jerking to a stop. Alex recoiled in surprise, crashing into the back wall of the stage. Heart pounding, he stared for several moments, tensed, but Freddy did not move again.

"Glitch, just a glitch," he assured himself, but the words the hostess told him about Foxy crept into his mind:

"_They don't get rid of him because he doesn't want to leave._"

* * *

Several days later, on Wednesday, Alex stepped through the double doors of Freddy Fazbear's wearing a pair of his own dark red coveralls and carrying a toolbox. The hostess, whom Alex learned was named Darlene, glanced up at him, shook her head, and returned to the book she was reading. Alex ignored her, walking with determination towards the Backstage door.

The manuals and schematics he had been given had been a treasure trove of information. If what they were promising was to be believed, than the animatronics at Freddy's had to be one of the most sophisticated robots ever created. They had been designed by an absolute genius, a one "Henry Fazbach," and were nothing short of miraculous. Every single part had been crafted by their manufacturer, Animatronics Limited, from their torso-mounted computers to their character eyes, and was state-of-the-art, even by modern standards. And Alex got to fix them.

He passed by Rob, who gave him a friendly smile on a nod as he made his rounds, jingling change in his pockets as he walked around. Alex raised his toolbox up, and Rob smiled wider, giving the mechanic a thumbs-up and continuing to patrol. The newly hired mechanic couldn't keep the excited grin off of his face as walked into the backstage area and out onto the stage.

Just like before, the curtain had been lowered and the show lights deactivated, leaving Alex in the dark. He pulled a portable work light from his toolbox and plugged it into a nearby outlet. Lacking any sort of mount, he wedged it into Bonnie's raised left hand and aimed it at Freddy.

"If you could just hold that steady," Alex told Bonnie sarcastically, patting the animatronic on the raised arm and sliding his box closer to the animatronic bear. Rolling up the sleeves of his coveralls, he set to work.

Slowly, delicately, and piece by piece, Alex began to detach sections of the suit Freddy wore. He started at the legs, where only a few bolts held the fabric in place. As he worked his way up, the job became more tedious as wires began to come into play, especially in the hands. Occasionally Alex unrolled one of the schematics, penciling on his own notes to ensure everything would be replaced in the correct order. After half an hour, he had manage to remove everything but Freddy's mascot head.

With the suit covering removed Freddy looked almost nightmarish. Protected within the robot's metal ribcage sat the necessary systems that allowed it to move. The robot's computer, actuator motors, and a myriad of other mechanical bits and bobs that it was Alex's job to inspect, repair, and maintain.

_Thank god for schematics,_ Alex thought, plucking a penlight out of his toolbox. Clicking it on, he examined Freddy's internals. Everything appeared, at least at the surface, intact and operational, but was noticeably worn. Oxidation was spread throughout, but didn't appear to be an impending issue. Scratches and chips were present in all of the moving parts, but if the show the bear had just performed was any indication, motion was not inhibited. A little cleaning was certainly necessary, but no major maintenance appeared to be needed.

Diagnosis complete, Alex turned away and grabbed a rag and two bottles: one of oil, one of a cleaning solution. He wet the rag with several splashes of the latter and began to wipe away at Freddy's exposed metal legs. His touch was light, precise, with just enough pressure to remove spots of dried fluid, dirt, and grime. Alex picked his away carefully across the entirety of Freddy's endoskeleton, ensuring he missed nothing. It was nearly as tedious as removing the costume, but every nook and cranny was cleaned.

A sudden knocking on the Backstage door behind him made Alex turn as it opened. Rob stepped through, a slice of pizza on a plate and a cup of soda in either hand. He nodded in greeting.

"Hiya! Didn't see hide nor hair of ya since ya got here, figured you'd like a little lunch," he said, raising up the pizza and drink, "Courtesy of Freddy's, o' course!"

Alex took the food gratefully.

"Thanks. What time is it?" he asked. Rob looked at his watch.

"Quarter to two," he replied.

"Seriously? I only just finished cleaning Freddy!"

Rob looked at the pieces of costume laid out neatly on the floor of the stage, then at Freddy. He whistled, long and low, before nodding in approval. "You really know your stuff. Can't make heads or tails of all... _that._" He gestured towards Freddy. "Hope you'll be done before tomorrow."

Alex shook his head, swallowing a bite of pizza. "Not likely. Why?"

Rob leaned against the back wall of the stage. "Boss's been tellin' people that the show would open tomorrow."

Alex groaned, already knowing the solution to the deadline. "Great. Guess I'm pulling a night shift."

Rob fidgeted. "You sure you wanna be here at night?"

Alex gave him a look. "I thought you didn't believe in that nonsense."

"I don't!" Rob replied quickly, "But it gets mighty dark in here at night. We ration the power, so most everything turns off after midnight."

"I don't plan on staying here until midnight," Alex said. Rob nodded in understanding.

"Ok, good. Well, even if you do, the night guard'll keep you company."

"Night guard? This place has a night guard?"

"Yessir," Rob answered, "Not sure who it'll be, though. The last guy ran off on us." The last sentence was said with a disapproving frown. "Boss is hiring another one today."

Alex wiped his greasy fingers on his coveralls. "Sounds like the job has a high turn-over rate."

"Yeah, well, can't blame 'em all that much," Rob replied with a shrug, "Place can be creepy to some. Still, you'd think we'd find at least _one_ that'd stay more than a week."

"Right. Well, uh, I've got a _lot _of work ahead of me," Alex drank the last dregs of his soda before giving the empty cup and plate back to Rob. "Thanks for the lunch."

"Think nothing of it," Rob shrugged dismissively, "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

The guard walked out, but paused halfway. He turned back around, transferring the cup and plate into one hand and digging into a pocket with the other.

"Almost forgot! Had this made for you. Welcome to the team!" He tossed an object that Alex caught easily. It was a name tag, made out of thick paper with an adhesive back. The pizzerias logo was printed on the top, and in a blank space underneath "Alex F." was written.

"Oh, wow. Thanks, Rob!" Alex stuck the nametag to his chest, passing in front of Bonnie to shake the guard's hand.

"No problem. I'll be seeing you around!" And with that, Rob walked through the door, leaving Alex alone with the robots once again. Alex reached his arms up, stretched some kinks out of his back, and picked up his rag.

"Back to work."

* * *

Several long hours later, and both Freddy and Bonnie had their endoskeletons fully examined and cleaned. The noise from outside in the Dining Area faded out as the day passed. Occasionally Rob would stick his head in, exchange a few words, then head back out into the restaurant. When the guard did so for the last time in his shift, Alex was elbows-deep in Chica's internals.

"Still at it, eh?" Rob asked.

"Yep," Alex croaked. He was exhausted, but there was still so much left to do. He hadn't even looked at the animatronic in the off-limits area yet.

"Well, we're closin' up for the night," Rob explained, "Janitor'll be sweeping through here, then the night guard's shift starts."

Alex didn't reply, simply nodding his head tiredly.

"Did you need anything?" Rob asked.

Alex wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, smudging it with oil. "No, no, I'm good."

"Alright..." Rob stood in the doorway awkwardly, before giving a simple wave and disappearing. Alex sighed, and sat on the floor, leaning back on his elbows.

_Maybe... Maybe just a quick nap. Yeah, that sounds... nice..._ Fatigue hang like a lead weight onto Alex's eyelids, slowly dragging them down. He scooted backward and reclined against the back wall. As soon as he felt the slightest bit comfortable, his chin dipped to his chest and he fell asleep.

* * *

"Hey, look, what's that endoskeleton doing here?"

"That's not an endoskeleton, look at him. He's an employee, I saw his nametag earlier. Wait a second... Chica, you're out of uniform!"

"_What!?_"

"Let's get you Backstage, quick, before anyone sees!"

"Wait, my suit's right here. Someone took it off!"

"Well, I'm sure it was an accident."

"It _better_ be!"

"The man's moving."

"Oh, great, now he'll see me like this."

Alex blearily looked up, blinking to clear his vision. The blob-like shapes sharpened into focus. Two large figures were standing over him. The animatronics. His eyes widened, a scream stifled in his throat.

"Wha-wha-wha-wha-," was all he managed. The rabbit animatronic frowned.

"You okay?" it asked in a feminine voice. The other animatronic, with the bird-like head, rolled its eyes.

"Who cares. Hey, buddy, you seen anybody in here? Maybe someone taking my suit off? Ring any bells?" This robot too had a voice that sounded female, but a sarcastic edge was buried deep in its tone.

"Uh, I-I-I-I took your suit off," Alex squeaked. The yellow-headed animatronic's eyes narrowed.

"So it was _you_, eh?" it said, "Well I don't know if you're new or what, be we've got some rules 'round here."

"I-it's my f-first day..." Alex replied. The rabbit animatronic turned to look at its companion.

"See? He doesn't know, don't beat him up about it," it said, before smiling at Alex. "Let's start over. Hi! I'm Bonnie!"

Alex stared in shock. This couldn't possibly be real, no way. It was impossible, for these robots to be actively conversing. They just did their little show over and over, all day, every day. They shouldn't be capable of this.

"You're a... a..." Alex began. Chica rolled its eyes again.

"C'mon, spit it out," it said.

"_Chica!_" Bonnie scolded, before turning back to Alex, "I'm sorry. She's just grouchy because we're not supposed to be out of uniform!"

"...A robot," Alex finished. Bonnie nodded.

"Yep!" she said, before her right eye flickered, "I'm a Fazbear Fun-imatronic Model 1, version 2, copyright Animatronics Limited 1980." The information was rattled off mechanically. "But my name is Bonnie! And you've already met Chica. And this is Freddy! He'll wake up later, he always does this the first few days."

Bonnie pointed to the currently deactivated Freddy animatronic. It remained immobile, eyes dark. Chica stomped her foot impatiently.

"Yeah, that's great, welcome aboard, blah-blah-blah," she said, before pointing to the pieces of her suit strewn about the floor. "_Fix me._"

"It _is_ the rules," Bonnie reminded. The two looked at the mechanic expectantly.

"O-okay..." Alex replied shakily, rummaging through his toolbox. He felt the robot's gaze on his back as he pulled out the various screwdrivers, ratchets, and other tools. A glance over his shoulder was met with a glare from Chica, who crossed her arms. He gulped, glanced at his unrolled schematics, and set to work reattaching the leg and foot pieces.

Chica watched him work for a few moments before looking up at Bonnie. "We should have gotten this guy to suit up that endoskeleton from yesterday."

The rabbit shrugged. "I don't know, I thought we did an okay job. He fit in the costume okay."

"Barely. Didn't help that it broke on the way. Where do all those endoskeletons come from, anyway?" The question was directed to Alex. He flinched.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about," he replied.

"Oh. Right, you're new," Chica said. Bonnie frowned at her. "What?"

"Be nice. He's fixing you, right?"

"Yeah, I guess," Chica said before imitating a sigh, which sounded more like a static-filled crackling. "I'm sorry, New Guy, no hard feelings. Just upset that endo broke."

"D-don't mention it," Alex replied, not looking the robot in the eye. He focused hard on his task, trying to make sense of the situation he was in. What sort of endoskeletons? If there was another animatronic, he didn't get any schematics of it. Was it like Bonnie and Chica? Where was it?

"I guess I'll go walk around," Bonnie said suddenly. Chica nodded.

"Alright. When I finish up here, I'll come find you," she replied. Bonnie smiled down at Alex before stepping off the stage, the mechanic watching her go.

At some point while he slept the show curtain had opened, allowing him to see into the Dining Area. It was incredibly dark, nearly pitch black, but he could still make out the long tables, already set for the next day's guests. Party hats sat in the middle, waiting for a birthday party that would very likely not be occurring if today's business was any indication. The rabbit animatronic melded into the shadows, and quickly disappeared from sight. He fastened the last bit of Chica's legs and began working on her torso. She looked around impatiently, but remained completely still. Alex's hands shook, causing him to fumble a wrench onto the stage floor where it landed with a clatter. He flinched and snatched it up quickly. Chica looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You okay? You're kinda freakin' out," she observed.

Alex did not look at her. "S-sorry," was all he said. Chica took several steps backward, yanking the wrench out of his hand, incomplete torso swinging around. Alex recoiled and covered his head with his arms, fearing violence.

"Hey, I said I was sorry," Chica sighed, "I wasn't _that_ mean, jeez."

"S-sorry..."

"Alright, _stop it_," Chica snapped, holding up a hand, "Stop it with the whole 'sorry' thing, it's irritating, and you've really got nothing to be sorry for. You're not in trouble, okay? I won't even question why you're here after hours."

"What do you m-mean?" Alex asked.

"There are not supposed to be employees in here after we close," Chica explained, "Like, at all. Nobody is allowed, now that I think about it. Yet, here you are. This is confusing." Chica's eyes closed for a moment, her torso computer began to whine. She stayed frozen like this for nearly a minute before opening her eyes again.

"Sorry, that happens sometimes. Let's just get this over with and get you out of here before I crash or something," she said.

Alex wholeheartedly agreed, retrieved his wrench from its spot wedged in Chica's endoskeleton.

* * *

Bonnie wandered down the East Hall, noticing that the light inside the Security Office had been turned on. Curious, she investigated, peering through the window. Inside, sitting in the battered swivel chair, was an endoskeleton. It met her eyes through the window before reaching out and punching the button that closed the massive steel door. It slammed down and latched with a clank. The two had an impromptu staring contest through the window before Bonnie walked away. She had to tell Chica and Foxy.

When she reached Pirate's Cove the curtain was fully closed, Out of Order sign in place as normal. Bonnie opened the curtains a small sliver.

"Foxy? You awake?" she asked.

The pirate was standing on the remains of his stage, scraping a tally mark on the back wall with his hook. He turned his head to look at her and raised his good hand in greeting.

"Ahoy, Bonnie," he said.

"There's another endoskeleton in the office," Bonnie reported. Foxy's eyes narrowed.

"Already? We jus' go' done wit' tha' other one!" he stepped off the stage and walked up to the curtain. "Does Freddy know?"

Bonnie shook her head, "No, he's not awake yet."

Foxy rubbed his lower jaw with his hook in thought. "Righ' then. Can' 'ave a lubber walkin' abou' wit' ou' a uniform. I'll be keepin' an eye ou', don' ye worry."

Bonnie nodded with a smile. "Thank you, Foxy!"

"O'course. Rules be rules."

"There's an employee here, too," Bonnie added, "He's helping Chica get her suit back on. They're at the Show Stage if you want to meet him." Foxy frowned.

"Don' we 'ave to ge' rid o' 'im?"

"Yeah, we do. We'll move him out after he's finished."

"Alrigh', le's see tha scallywag," Foxy said, and followed Bonnie to the Show Stage.

* * *

Clanking footsteps made Alex look out towards the Show Stage. Bonnie had returned, and next to her was... another animatronic. Not just any animatronic, but the same one he had seen in the closed off restaurant, the one the waitress had talked to him about. Foxy. The glowing yellow eyes looked him up and down.

"Ahoy, lad," it said in a gruff, accented voice, "I be Foxy, Cap'n of the _Red Fox_, and the fiercest pirate to ever sail the Seven Seas!"

"Uh-huh, sure," Chica managed to verbally roll her eyes, "He's also full of himself." Foxy growled.

"H-hello," Alex said meekly. The robot's sharp teeth and hook screamed "_be polite_"_._ Bonnie spoke up.

"There's another endoskeleton in the Security Office," she told Chica. The chicken animatronic imitated a groan.

"_Great_," she grumbled. Alex looked confused.

"An endoskeleton?" he asked. Bonnie nodded.

"Yeah, sorry about this. We know it's against the rules, but we'll fix it, I promise," Bonnie almost sounded embarrassed.

"O-okay."

Silence settled on the group as Alex continued to attach the rest of Chica's costume piece by piece. The animatronics' gazes were piercing, heavy, and unwavering. They tracked his every single move. Sweat beaded on the mechanic's brow at the attention, made worse as Foxy kept twisting his hook. _Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. Squeak. _Every so often, Bonnie would turn her head to look down one of the halls leading to the Security Office. Chica's stare never changed from the irritated expression she wore as she stood ramrod still.

Finally, the last wire was attached, tightened, and secured under the cloth costume. Alex took a step back, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a swipe of the back of his arm.

"All done," he said. Chica examined herself, turning her head a complete three hundred and sixty degrees and moving every limb. Satisfied, she crossed her arms and nodded her approval. Bonnie nudged her before pointing at Alex. The chicken rolled her eyes.

"Thank you," she said, before stepping off the stage and walking towards the West Hall. Foxy disappeared as well, running off with heavy, clanking footfalls. Bonnie watched him leave before turning back to Alex.

"She means it," Bonnie assured, "Thank you again, but I'm sorry you really can't be here." The rabbit stepped onto the stage and grabbed Alex by the wrist, pulling him along as she lead the way through Backstage and out into the Dining Area.

"Wha-? Hey!" Alex protested, pulling against the vice-like grip.

"Sorry, really, but rules are rules. You need to leave," Bonnie replied, continuing to drag the man along.

"But all my stuff!"

"Rules are rules," Bonnie repeated, reaching the main entrance. She pulled Alex up to the double doors and looked at him expectantly. Alex pushed against the doors. They rattled in their frame, but did not open. _Locked._

"They're locked," Alex replied, "I don't have a key to this place yet."

Bonnie looked at the doors, then to Alex. "Aw... _shucks_," she said, scuffing a foot on the tile floor. The rabbit automaton paced back and forth in front of the door in thought for several moments before grabbing the mechanic by the wrist again.

She lead him back through the Dining Area and all the way to the foot of the Show Stage. Freddy still stood there, stuck in his show pose exactly like Alex had seen him earlier that day. He had removed the microphone out of the robot's frozen grip, but nothing about its position had changed.

"Freddy? Freddy, wake up, we have a problem," Bonnie replied, still grasping Alex by the arm.

A soft _click_ was heard followed by an electric hum. Freddy's eyes lit up, glowing bright blue. The bear animatronic lowered his arm and turned to look at Bonnie.

"What sort of a problem?" Freddy asked, speaking in a proper voice that carried a strong authoritative tone. Bonnie lifted up Alex's hand.

"This employee, he's stayed after closing, but now the door's locked and he can't leave," Bonnie explained, "And that's against the rules!"

Freddy nodded sagely, "Yes, it is, but since we can't get him out of the restaurant, we'll have to make do with an alternative solution." The bear stepped down off the stage and up to Alex and Bonnie, looking the former up and down. His eyes narrowed as he focused in on Alex's face before turning around.

"Alexander, is it?" Freddy asked, looking around the restaurant.

"Yes," Alex replied. Freddy nodded.

"It is nice to meet you. Please follow me." Freddy led the way to the curtained-off doorway that the sat near the East Hall. He held the curtains open with an arm and turned back to Alex. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay in Pirate's Cove until we open up in the morning. I know it's not the greatest solution, but it is the one that keeps us out of trouble, you understand."

Bonnie pushed Alex into the room, knocking him onto the thinly-carpeted floor. Freddy's glowing blue eyes bore down into him.

"_Do not leave_," the bear ordered, still in an affable tone, but the weight of command was there. Alex nodded, terrified, and remained rooted to the spot even as the closing of the curtains left him in absolute darkness.

He sat where he fell for several minutes in an attempt to rationalize everything that had occurred since he woke up. The animatronics were... _alive._ It was impossible, but the proof had just thrown Alex into a pitch-black room. The blueprints he had been given did not contain any information that could explain it. The mechanisms of the robots were advanced, exceptionally so, but to have intelligence like this...

The curtains suddenly parted, revealing Foxy, who glared down at Alex with a single burning yellow eye.

"Wha' are ye doin' in 'ere?" he growled.

"Uh, uh, Freddy, he-," Alex stammered.

"_Ge' ou' of 'ere 'fore I make ye walk tha plank!_" Foxy snarled, sending Alex scurrying out of Pirate's Cove. He chanced a glance behind him and saw Foxy wrench the curtains shut. The mechanic stood in the Dining Area, hands on his knees as he tried to calm himself down and catch his breath. A scream sounded behind him.

Alex whirled around. The scream came from down the long hallway leading to the office.

_The office!_ Alex realized, _The night guard!_ Rob mentioned that a night guard would be here. Hoping maybe the guard could help, Alex ran down the East Hall.

"Hey! _Hey!_" Alex called as he ran, "I need some help!"

When the mechanic reached the office he saw a young woman, close to his age, sitting in a chair inside. She looked up quickly, eyes wide, then did a double take. A massive metal door rose into the ceiling, letting him get inside.

"Don't just stand there, get in here!" the guard said. Alex did not need further invitation, practically diving through the doorway. The steel door slammed shut just as Chica walked up. The animatronic chicken looked at the two through the window. One eye flickered.

"Whoa, you're not _helping_ that endoskeleton are ya?" Chica accused. Another eye flicker. "You know what? You've been nothin' but trouble since you got here." A small grin pulled at her beak. "Man, Freddy's going to be _so mad_ when he hears about this..."

Chica turned and walked away, and the guard opened the door soon after. Alex groaned and put his head in his hands.

"Regretting your career choice?" asked the guard. Alex turned and looked up at her. She was of Asian descent, probably Korean, and her long black hair was knotted in a ponytail that stuck out of the gap in her black security ball cap. He nodded at her question.

"A little bit, yeah," Alex replied.

"Get in line," the guard sighed, straightening her hat. "I'm Kim. Who're you?"

"My name's Alex," the mechanic replied, gesturing to his nametag, "I'm a mechanic. Today's my first day."

"Mine too," Kim said, eyes glued to the tablet. She looked at him sideways. "Got any idea what's going on?"

Alex shrugged. "Not a clue. Unless I'm going insane and you're taking the trip with me."

"I'm not going to reject the idea."

Alex took in the Security Office. It looked just like it did when Rob gave him the tour. Trash sat piled on the desk, and with two people it was more than a bit cramped. "It's safe in here, right?"

"So far," Kim answered, voice shaking slightly, "The doors keep 'em out well enough. Take a lot of juice, though, and I've only got so much power to work with." She glanced up at a large digital clock. It read 5:04 am.

"I just don't get it," Alex said, "This is impossible. Robots that are alive? I took them all apart just earlier today, and I can't wrap my head around it."

"So imagine how I feel," Kim said, "Wait, you've been out there all night?"

"Yeah, why?"

Kim looked Alex up and down with a mixture of awe and suspicion. "What'd they do to you?"

Alex sat up straight and gave her a confused look. "Nothing. Well, they threw me in that Pirate place, but that was it."

"Oh. They want to kill me." Kim attempted to state it in a very nonchalant tone, but the fear was

there. "Stuff me in a suit. Guy in the phone told me."

"_What?_" Alex asked. Kim only nodded. "Wha... _why?_"

Kim swallowed, blinking away terrified tears. "Well, uh... apparently I look like an endoskeleton or something? I dunno. The guy on the phone explained it all."

Alex leaned back against the wall in resignation, looking up at the ceiling. "That's what they were talking about. They mentioned something about there being another endoskeleton running around. I guess that was you."

Kim scoffed in reply, keeping her eyes fixed on the tablet. She looked more and more nervous. Alex swallowed. "Well, uh, maybe we can get out of here. The front door's locked, but there has to be another way, right?"

_Bwwooooooooom_. With a pop, the lights snapped off. The fan that sat on the desk stopped spinning, and the tablet's screen went dark. Kim and Alex froze, letting their eyes adjust. In the left doorway, a set of blue lights flicked on, accompanied by a tinkling music box tune. Alex punched the door close button desperately.

"I'm afraid that is not going to work," came Freddy's voice. The eyes belonged to him. "It appears you have run out of power. Unfortunate, but at least we can finally get you into uniform."

In one motion, Freddy stepped into the office, grabbed Kim, and began walking out. Alex quickly latched onto the bear's arm, trying to pry them open. Freddy froze and locked eyes with the mechanic. The bear's narrowed slightly. "You are one terrible employee, I am very sorry to say." He shook Alex off his arm and marched down the hallway as Kim began to scream.

"Alex! Do something! Help!" she yelled over Freddy's shoulder.

"Hush," Freddy ordered, not stopping. Bonnie fell into step with the band leader as Alex continued to trail behind.

"It's not so bad," Bonnie said encouragingly, "I know you don't want to, but we gotta suit you up. I mean, we're all wearing them! Then you'll fit in!"

"But I'm not a robot!" Kim protested. Freddy shook his head.

"Again with the same old excuse. No one is allowed after hours except for us. That is the rules," Freddy explained. They had reached the end of the hallway, passing by Pirate's Cove. Foxy had poked his head out, grinning at Freddy's catch until he caught sight of Alex. The pirate snarled at him, and wrenched the curtains shut. He hated trespassers.

"But Alex-!"

"-Has broken plenty of rules already," Freddy replied, giving a pointed glance at Alex, "And he will be punished in short order. But getting you ready for our show is far more important."

Bonnie took the lead of the small group, opening the Backstage door for Freddy. Not knowing what else to do, Alex followed him inside, racking his brain to think of something, anything that would help. Bonnie closed the door behind them and went to the rack of costumes, pulling out one similar to her own.

"I think you'd make a great bunny!" Bonnie said, opening the costume. Despite himself, Alex noticed that she did not remove any of the latches, leaving very little room for a human to fit.

"Right then. In you go," Freddy said, dropping Kim onto her feet but holding onto her shoulders. Kim immediately recoiled from the suit. The many sharp wires that made out the frame work sat at tension. They were industrial grade, incredibly durable. And unyielding. And dangerous. Freddy began pushing Kim towards it. She dug her heels into the floor, pushing back with everything she had. She still slid forward.

"No, no, no!" Kim screeched, "Alex! _Alex!_"

Inch by inch, closer and closer. Kim struggled harder. Freddy held her tighter. Bonnie opened the suit a little bit wider. Closer. Alex screwed his eyes shut, unable to watch, unable to think of anything to do. Closer. Kim's arm brushed against a wire. She screamed.

_Beep-beep-beep-beep-beep!_ An alarm on Kim's watched beeped fervently. Freddy froze. In unison, both he and Bonnie let go. The suit clattered to the floor and Kim slunk to her knees. Wordlessly, staring blankly, Bonnie and Freddy exited the room, heading for their positions on the Show Stage. Six am. Alex ran to Kim.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Kim nodded, then pulled the mechanic into a relieved hug.

"I thought I was..." Kim trailed off.

"I'm so sorry. There was nothing I could do!"

"It's... it's alright." Kim let go. Alex led her towards the lobby as a man approached, a set of keys held in his hand. He was dressed in a Freddy Fazbear polo and slacks with glasses on his face. He was older, balding, with light brown hair. He unlocked the door, not batting an eye as Kim sprinted out, hopping into a small hatchback and speeding off. He nodded at Alex.

"Good morning," he said, before walking further into the building. Alex followed him into the Dining Area.

"What the hell's going on here!?" he suddenly blurted. The man turned, looking confused.

"Uh... I'm the day manager and I'm opening up?" he asked.

"I meant with the robots!" Alex shouted. The manager looked Alex up and down, taking in his coveralls.

"Isn't that your job?" the manager asked, annoyed, "Now if you'll excuse me..." He entered the restaurant's office, making a point of locking the door behind him. Alex pounded on it.

"Hey! Open up, I need to talk to you!" he demanded. The manager glared at him through the window. Alex pounded on the door harder, rattling it in its frame.

"Alex, what're ya doin'?"

The mechanic spun around to see Rob, looking at him in concern.

"Rob! Thank God, the animatronics, they're alive, and they almost killed Kim! The fox one hates me for some reason and the chicken one's a bitch, but they were going to _kill someone!_" Alex gasped as he ran out of breath. Rob put a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"Slow it on down, Alex. If you ask me, you had a long night. Your tired. Go on home, get some shut-eye, okay?" he began moving Alex toward the door. The mechanic shook off Rob's hand.

"No! I didn't imagine it! Ask Kim, she was there too! Call her!" Alex insisted. Rob quirked an eyebrow.

"If I do, will that make you get some rest?" he asked. Alex nodded. Rob sighed, and began walking to the Security Office. Alex followed, looking nervously behind him as they walked down the hallway. Rob noted the fact the power had been shut off with a shake of the head.

Once inside, Rob opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out what appeared to be Kim's hiring paperwork. He flipped through the pages of legal jargon and fine print until reaching contact information. He picked up the phone's handset and punched in the number. The guard drummed his fingers on the desk as it rang.

"Hello, Kim? It's Rob, the day guard," Rob began. Alex leaned forward. "I'm sorry I missed ya, ya must be asleep if you're even home yet. Anyhow, just checkin' up on ya after your first night, hope it went well. I'll see you 'round here tonight. G'bye." He hung up and turned to Alex.

"Didn't answer," he said simply.

"Well I know what I saw," Alex said defiantly, and stormed out, headed back for the office. As he reached the Dining Area, Arianna walked in from the lobby, holding a briefcase. Alex cut her off.

"Oh, it's you," Arianna said, "The robots all fixed, then?"

"Yeah, they're fixed," Alex spat, "Did you know about them?"

Arianna frowned. "Know what, exactly?"

Alex balled his hands into fists. "That they're alive, that they tried to kill the night guard?" Arianna's expression darkened immediately.

"Not this bullshit again. I get it, alright? We don't have a proud history," Arianna poked the center of Alex's chest. "But that does not mean you can all keep on making rumors about this place. So whatever ghost story you want to tell, save it for someone who'll give a damn. You're fired."

Alex stared. "...What?"

"You want it in goddamned triplicate? I'm not listening to another damned horror story of whatever the hell you dreamt up at four in the morning. You fixed the robots, right? Then get the hell out of here before I throw you out!"

With that, Arianna spun on a heel and marched to the office. The day manager opened it immediately, closing it behind them. Several moments later, the manager walked out, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at Alex.

"Whatever you did, you sure pissed her off," he said simply, before walking off to turn on the restaurant's power. Alex glared at his back, then at the office door, before storming outside, never to return.

* * *

Arianna sat behind her desk, fuming. With a heavy sigh, she rested her head in her hands, rubbing her temples. She hated dealing with the rumors, the tall tales, and with something like Freddy's everyone had one. She opened a drawer in the desk and reaching deep inside. Hidden underneath a stack of paper and a stapler was a small unframed photograph. It was a picture of her, as a young girl, sitting on the lap of an older looking man. The man wore a suit, and was holding young Arianna's hands to make her wave at the camera. He gave a friendly smile to the camera as Arianna laughed.

A small smile tugged at Arianna's features as she looked at the picture. She touched the pictured man's face.

"I'm trying, Uncle Henry," she said to the photo. She set it on the desk in front of her, staring at it wistfully before frowning once more when the phone rang. She answered after two rings, speaking in a well-practiced voice.

"Thank you for calling Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, where fun and fantasy come to life. Arianna speaking."

_**A/N: Merry Christmas.**_


End file.
